To Wish Impossible Things
by amazen-mo
Summary: When Sookie finds Eric alone, confused, and covered in blood she can't just drive on by. As she learns that Eric has no idea what has happened, the race is on to recover his memories before his attacker returns! Follows "An End Has A Start"
1. Chapter 1  If Not For You

**A/N: **_To Wish Impossible Things _is the first sequel to _**An End Has A Start**_, which you can find on MoxieMo's profile and also on her blog at moxiemosvmfanfic(dot)wordpress(dot)com.

Sookie tries to get back into a normal routine and resolves to spend the holidays with what family she has left, but is quickly drawn back into vampire drama when she finds Eric alone, confused, and covered in blood. Once she learns that he has no idea what happened, the race is on to help him recover his memories before whoever attacked him comes back.

Hoyt and Jessica enjoy their blooming romance, but Maxine Fortenberry hasn't given up on saving her son. Pam, snarky as ever, starts off in a bind. Bill fills his empty hours with an unusual visitor. Meanwhile, Queen Sophie Ann hasn't forgotten about Sookie. All the familiar faces are back, along with several new ones in Sookie's latest adventure.

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><p><strong>Reader Discretion: <strong>There is a brief episode of sexual violence near the end of this chapter. It's not graphic (think PG-13) and everything that's going to happen has already happened when we get there but if you're sensitive to this kind of material, be advised.

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><p><strong>If Not For You<strong>

My eyes snapped open as I felt the last rays of sunlight disappear. Beside me, Jessica was still at rest. She would not rise for another half hour or so, for which I was thankful as it meant no "morning" battles for the bathroom.

By the time I made my way downstairs Jessica had risen and dressed in her Merlotte's uniform. "Good evening Jessica," I said with a smile.

"Oh, hey Bill." She had tied back her long red hair and was topping it with a teal band that brought out the deep blue of her eyes.

"You are working tonight?" I inquired.

"Of course." She gestured to her clothing.

"Is Hoyt picking you up?" They'd had some adjustments to make after Dallas, I'd heard, but their relationship seemed to be back on track, even though I didn't think his mother approved of the match. I hoped that having a steady young man like him around would have a calming effect on her and keep her away from the darker side of vampirism.

"No. No, he's busy tonight," she lamented. "Actually, I was kinda hoping you might let me borrow your car?" she said, turning to look at me hopefully.

"I cannot—but I would be happy to drive you," I assured her with another smile. I was glad that Sam had hired her. It was important to me that she find a place in our world and gain some comfort with her new life. Working at Merlotte's was a small step in that direction. Though I hadn't planned to make a child and Jessica and I had gotten off to a rocky start, I was determined to turn things around between us and be a proper maker

"Shall we?" I opened the front door and waved her through.

We were on the parish road in no time, and a glance at the Stackhouse property revealed that Sookie was not at home. Perhaps I would see her at Merlotte's, which made me glad I had agreed to chauffeur Jessica. I wanted her to learn independence, but I also wanted an excuse to run into Sookie.

"Are you enjoying your work?" I asked Jessica.

"No. Not really," she said glumly. "Sam won't let me do anything but hostess, and Arlene hates me."

Though her inflection only indicated blithe annoyance, I could see the hurt in her eyes and feel it in her blood. Arlene, who disliked vampires, was always curt, if not downright rude to me, and Jessica probably received no better treatment.

"Arlene has an unnatural fear of our kind," I said gently. "I hope she is not mistreating you."

"No," she said tentatively. "It's just that I try so hard to be nice to her and she won't even look me in the eye. And I won the New Year's lottery, so now she's going to be even nastier."

"A lottery? You mean a prize draw?"

"For New Year's," Jessica cheered up at this. "No one wanted to work on New Year's Eve, so we all decided that the fairest way to settle it was to draw for the night off. And I won!" Her eyes were sparkling now. "Arlene looked like she swallowed a whole pickle," she added, giggling. I couldn't help but smile as well.

"Well, congratulations! What will you do with your night off?"

"Hoyt and I are going to Fangtasia's New Year's party," she said excitedly. "It's going to be so cool. I can't wait!" Seeing my frown, she added, "I have to put in some face time there anyway so I thought, why not kill two birds with one stone?"

"Jessica," I said, swerving to avoid a deer that had ventured into the road, "I am not sure that taking Hoyt to Fangtasia is a good idea."

She looked at me, astonished. "Why not? It's going to be a great party, and Hoyt's never been there."

"Jessica, Hoyt knows nothing of our kind except me and you. He will not know how to conduct himself. Taking him there would be very dangerous … for him."

As we passed through Bon Temps Main Street, several citizens were out strolling and chatting, perhaps finishing up their Christmas shopping. A few waved as we passed by. Others deliberately turned away.

"Eric told me you took Sookie to Fangtasia, so it can't be that dangerous," Jessica argued.

"What exactly did Eric say to you about Sookie?" I asked her.

"He said that's how he met her. You did take her there, right?"

"Yes," I replied grimly. "It was our first date." And how I wished we had not gone there. _Ever_. Letting Eric Northman set eyes on Sookie Stackhouse had been a huge mistake. His interest in Sookie was more troubling to me than the state of our relationship. Even if I could never earn back her trust, I couldn't stand the thought of Eric using her as he did other women. Sookie deserved so much better than that.

"You took her to Fangtasia for your _first date_?" Jessica asked with obvious disapproval.

"Jessica, I didn't _plan_ it that way," I said. Jessica looked doubtful, so I explained.

"It didn't start out as a date. Sookie insisted on going there. Police were questioning her brother about two murdered women he'd been with. Both women had also been with vampires and Sookie believed that if they'd been seen at Fangtasia, it might help clear her brother's name." It hadn't been enough, but Sookie refused to give up and had eventually found the killer. She was quite the sleuth, but her detective work had nearly cost her life.

"Wait, she wanted to question _vampires_ about humans? At _Fangtasia_? What was she thinking?"

"She _wasn't_ thinking," I couldn't help the disapproval in my voice. "When Sookie wants something she can be quite headstrong. I could see she was determined, so I agreed to escort her. For her own safety."

"That doesn't sound like much of a date." Jessica was clearly not impressed with my courting skills.

"As a date, it was a complete disaster," I acknowledged. "But it was the first time we went out together." Sookie had looked beautiful that night. That red and white dress; her golden hair and innocent smile...

"Well, where did you go on your second date?" Jessica's question interrupted my reverie.

"Well … that was Fangtasia as well," I admitted reluctantly, and Jessica rolled her eyes.

"It wasn't supposed to be," I hastened to add. "But Eric summoned us so he could use Sookie's gift. And then Longshadow attacked Sookie, and we never did go anywhere else that night."

I regretted my explanation immediately, because prompted both of us to recall what the events of that evening had precipitated. Our eyes met for just the briefest of moments and I realized she didn't blame me, or Sookie, for her turning, and she realized I didn't resent that I was now responsible for her. There was a brief second of discomfort as we both realized that we had shared a moment, but I figured all father-daughter relationships have those. Jessica quickly changed the subject.

"Well, I'm sure Hoyt will be fine," Jessica said. "He has no problem with us. He even…" My baby vampire suddenly looked quite uncomfortable.

"He … well …" If she could have blushed, I believe she would have. "He … he lets me feed on him sometimes." The words burst out in a rush of embarrassment.

"Really?" It was my turn for some gentle scorn. "And how does _Mrs._ Fortenberry feel about that?"

Jessica squared her shoulders and said, "Hoyt says that his mama doesn't own him and he will live his life on his own terms." She nodded, as if to confirm that.

"I hope he does," I said. "But don't underestimate Maxine." If her determination attend the maenad Maryann's "party" had been any indication, she wasn't one to give up easily.

"Well, he won't let me heal the bite marks, but she hasn't made any fuss over them." Jessica paused, then added hopefully, "I think she might be coming around."

"I hope that's true," I replied as we pulled into Merlotte's parking lot. "Do you mind if I come in with you?"

"No. 'Course not," she said. "Just don't get Sookie riled up. She doesn't want you airing your personal business in public. She'll talk to you when she's good and ready, and you leave her alone until then." I tried not to smile. She sounded more like Sookie than she knew.

Except for some loud whooping around the pool table, conversation stopped briefly as we entered. After a moment it resumed, the low buzz of gossip and the click of billiard balls melding with some boozy bantering and the twang of country music.

"Bill. Jessica." Sam nodded as he hurried past.

"Vampire Bill," Andy Bellefleur's greeting was warm. He was drinking sweet tea tonight, I saw. Sobriety suited him.

"Y'all need to settle down back here, else you're gonna have to leave," Sam was yelling at several drunk and scruffy-looking rednecks who were clustered around the pool table. "Now I ain't gonna warn you again!"

I sat down in a booth as Jessica took up her hostess station. The bell jingled, and I heard her say "Hi there, welcome to Merlotte's" as Arlene huffed up to my table looking offended.

"What you want?" she asked in a snippy voice.

"I'll have a bottle of O-negative," I said pleasantly.

She came right back with my blood, set it down with a thump, and hurried away without a word. I suspected it would be cold (again) ... and it was. I sighed and turned to call her back. She'd gone to the bar and was now saying something to Sookie, who glanced my way but did not acknowledge me, prompting another sigh. Sookie and I used to be so close. Now, she wouldn't even speak to me, though I would give anything to have her in my arms again.

I couldn't deny that I'd initially come to Bon Temps to lay a trap for Sookie, but in the end it was she that had captured me. She'd turned my existence inside out, and in the space of a few nights I had gone from hunting to courting; from procuring to protecting.

How quickly I'd lost it all. Though I loved her deeply for her own sake, I loved her even more because she'd awakened the dormant vestiges of humanity I thought Lorena had extinguished forever.

But Sookie no longer trusted me because I had not been the one to tell her my original reason for returning to Bon Temps. And now she feared me as well, because of the incident at Infinity. She'd saved me from Lorena's torture but had not been able to save herself from me. I hoped that one day she would understand how powerless and desperate I had been in that moment, and find it in her heart to forgive me.

"Mind if I join you?" Andy Bellefleur's gravelly voice broke into my thoughts.

"Please," I gestured at the seat, glad for the company. Unlike Bud Dearborn, the stocky Bellefleur had always been friendly to me.

"What brings you to Merlotte's?" he asked.

"I drove Jessica here and decided to stay for a drink," I said, nodding to where she and the busboy were deep in conversation.

"She's fitting in real good around here," Andy observed.

"I am glad to hear that."

"Almost Christmas," Andy remarked. "What are you … I mean, do your … people celebrate the holidays?"

"Some do. Some don't," I replied. "It depends on how old the vampire is and what culture they are from."

"Well, you're American, so I guess you celebrate then," he replied, sounding pleased to have 'detected' this.

Draining the last of his tea, Bellefleur waved Arlene over for a refill. When she picked up his glass, I handed her my bottle of blood and asked politely, "Miss Fowler, would you do me the kindness of warming this? It seems to have gone cold." She snatched it from me with a glare and hurried away.

"During my human life, Christmas was not the spectacle it is today," I told my companion. "Our celebrations were small and homespun, and much less prolonged than yours. And of course during the war, we did not celebrate at all."

"Right," Bellefleur said. "What about now – anything special in the works?"

"No, not really," I replied. "I have a guest coming to stay with me for a few days. As I don't know exactly when he will arrive, I've made no definite plans."

"Company for Christmas. That's always nice, if they don't stay too long," Andy said, in a way that suggested some unfortunate memories.

"Not exactly for Christmas," I corrected him. "My guest is Guatemalan and very old. Christmas is not a part of his cultural heritage."

Arlene returned with our drinks, set them down and retreated quickly. I sipped mine—it was warm this time. Much better. I was hungry and drank most of it immediately as Bellefleur watched in fascination.

"Guatemala? Where's that exactly?" he asked, once I'd set the bottle down. Andy was a man who had not seen much of the world.

"In Central America, south of Mexico," I explained. "I went there a few months ago to visit the Mayan ruins." He raised his eyebrows at this, so I added, "I have always enjoyed history."

"Right." The brows came down. "Central America—that would be part of Latin America?" I nodded. "Aren't they mostly Catholic?"

"Since the Spanish Conquest, yes," I replied, waiting to see what he would make of this.

He frowned. "Are you telling me that your friend is more than 500 years old?" His gruff voice was skeptical, but his face held a mixture of curiosity and awe.

"He is, yes," I said dryly. The lawman was a bit taken aback.

"Well I guess he must have quite a history to talk about then," he offered gamely. I was about to agree when the door opened, and Pamela swept in.

She stopped just inside, and scanned the room, a hand on one hip. Conversations paused again as the good people of Bon Temps scrutinized this exotic visitor.

Pam, who was not dressed for small town America, wore a strapless, blood-red silk corset and tight black vinyl pencil skirt. A wide choker of sparkling black beads accentuated her pale throat and echoed the shine of her patent leather pumps, whose five-inch heels and bright red soles were the subject of quite a few envious glances. Some of the men in Merlotte's elbowed each other and grinned. Even Bellefleur looked impressed.

"Hey blondie," one of the pool-players yelled. "Whatever you're lookin' for, we got it right here."

Another hollered, "Loose women tightened here—come an' get it!"

"Yeah baby, we got somethin' special for ya," a third joined in. "Show us your tits!"

She gave them a withering glance. "Isn't it a school night?"

Some of the other patrons laughed at this, and a few of the drunken faces flushed a dull red.

"Hooo-eee, she got you Boyd!" One of the men punched another on the arm, sending him reeling. Another wobbled unsteadily and was about to speak when someone grabbed him by his over-sized belt buckle and yanked him sideways.

"Hey!" he protested, then abruptly released a loud belch, causing the whole group to laugh uproariously.

"Alright fellas, that's enough," Sam called. "Time for you boys to head on home."

The men groaned in protest. "Aw, come on Sam," one argued.

"Blondie there ain't mad, are ya sweetheart?" Pam just raised one eyebrow sardonically.

"We's just havin' a little fun," another protested.

"Well you had your fun, now it's time for y'all to leave," Sam insisted. "Don't make me come down there." I imagined Sam was more worried about what Pam would do if the rednecks continued to taunt her than he was worried about her feelings being hurt. And rightly so. I'd seen Pam mop the floor with fangbangers who crossed the line at Fangtasia.

Still grumbling, the men tossed back the last of their drinks, laid down their pool cues and shuffled out the side door.

"Ta ta," Pam said with a smirk. Turning to me, she said, "Bill. Who's your friend?"

"Pam. This is Andy Bellefleur, Sheriff of Bon Temps."

Startled, Andy tried to stand up, but the table blocked his motion, halting him in an awkward half-erect stance. Pam looked him over briefly, then turned back to me. After a moment, Bellefleur sat down uncertainly, looking curiously from me to Pam.

"What brings you to Bon Temps? Aren't you a little out of your territory?" I asked her. Whatever Pam wanted, it was probably not good news for me.

"I'm looking for Sookie," she said, unexpectedly. "I don't suppose you know where she is?"

"She's here," I replied. "Somewhere." Avoiding me.

"Hey Pam," Jessica greeted her, menu in hand. "You here for a meal?"

"Not in a hundred years," Pam scoffed. "Where's Sookie?"

"I'm right here, Pam. What do you want?" Sookie had a tray full of empty glasses and was heading back to the bar. I hoped she might linger so I could enjoy her presence, but she did not. As she moved away, both Pam and Jessica trailed her.

"It's nice to see you too, Sookie," I could hear Pam saying sarcastically. "It's been _such a long time_. How've you been?"

"Cut the crap, Pam," Sookie snapped ungraciously. "What kind of trouble is Eric in now?" She set her tray down with a clatter, and Sam came over to dispose of the empties. Also to hover and eavesdrop, no doubt.

Pam was undeterred. "Trouble?" she asked innocently. "None that I know of. What about you?"

"None so far, but if you're here, I'm sure that's about to change." Sookie's manner was brusque. "I need two rum and cokes and a pitcher of Dixie, Sam."

"Can't a friend stop in to say hello?" Pam was being coy now, settling her long fingers on Sookie's shoulder in a suggestive fashion. I tried not to laugh. If any woman was immune to Pam's charms, it was Sookie. Bellefleur, who hadn't seen Pam's antics before, was slack-jawed. I wondered if he thought Sookie would slap Pam, or perhaps respond more favorably? If so, he was in for a disappointment. Sookie never let Pam's advances get under her skin.

"Yeah, a friend could," Sookie was saying. "But _you _don't." She had shrugged off Pam's hand off and was loading her tray with fresh drinks as Sam served them up. "I'm working, Pam, and from the looks of your outfit, you're supposed to be at Fangtasia. Just spit it out."

"Oh all right," Pam relented. "I came to ask if you'd take a shift at Fangtasia on New Year's Eve—we're still short staffed thanks to Waldo, and you have some experience with us." That seemed an odd request, especially given that Sookie had worked at Fangtasia only to help Eric find a killer. Something was up, and Eric was undoubtedly behind it. Always sending Pam to do his dirty work.

"You drove all the way to Bon Temps to ask me that?" Sookie was incredulous. "You should have called and saved yourself a trip. I can't work for you—I'm working here that night."

"Nonsense. Tell the shi—your boss ..." Pam glanced at Sam, who was hovering protectively, and continued, " … you need the night off. I'm sure he'll let you go. Besides, you'll get much better tips at Fangtasia." Sam bristled at that and threw down his bar towel, but Sookie waved him off. I noticed that Bellefleur was on alert, prepared to intervene if things got heated.

"No Pam, Sam _won't_ let me go and I won't ask," Sookie said firmly. "The whole staff decided that the only fair way to schedule that night was to hold a lottery. I'm one of the ones that have to work. Sorry, can't help you."

"I'm sure _I_ can make him see reason," Pam said, smiling widely at a glaring Sam.

"Pam!" Sookie's rebuke was so sharp that even Andy flinched a bit, but Pam, who seemed to believe that boundaries were made to be crossed, took no notice.

"What about me?" Jessica spoke up.

"What about you?" Pam inquired in a bored voice.

"Could I help? I was planning to be there anyway, for the party. I wouldn't mind helping out some, and if I get some experience as a server maybe Sam'll let me do more around here." Jessica looked hopefully from Pam to Sam, who shook his head in disgust and walked away.

I hoped Pam would say no—Fangtasia was not a healthy environment for someone so young and impressionable. Especially when that someone had a wild streak, as I was beginning to suspect Jessica did. If she did not learn to manage it wisely, it would add more grief than spice to her life, and I doubted that Fangtasia could provide many useful lessons in that regard.

Thankfully, Pam rejected her suggestion. "Sorry cupcake. I have enough servers with no experience."

Jessica started to pout, but rearranged her face after a sharp glance from Pam. "There must be something I could do," she wheedled.

"Doesn't Eric know any other any bar-owners who could lend him a few servers?" Sookie asked.

"I'll think about it," Pam said to both of them. "Thanks anyway. Don't be a stranger, Sookie. Eric misses you."

"Yeah, right," Sookie snorted, but I regretfully noticed the sudden staccato rhythm of her heart as she setting off to deliver her drinks. Pam exchanged a few more words with Jessica, then left by the front door.

Bellefleur watched her leave, then checked his watch. I finished my blood and dropped a few dollars on the table to pay for it.

"I must be on my way," I said, standing up to go. "Thank you for the company."

"Is it really true that you can live on that stuff?" he asked suddenly. I examined him for a couple of seconds then said, "I suppose that depends upon your definition of 'life'."

"What does it taste like?"

"I don't think about the taste," I said. "It's just sustenance, that's all. Goodnight Detective Bellefleur."

By the time I reached the door, Bellefleur had picked up the discarded bottle and was cautiously sniffing at the residue. I shook my head. He should thank his lucky stars, and pray that he need never learn to tolerate Tru Blood. It truly was vile and metallic, though I would never admit that to Northman.

I unlocked my car and was about to get in when the wind shifted and I caught the unmistakable tang of blood—vampire blood—in the air. I scanned the area for some hint of its source, but saw nothing. Then I heard a woman groaning faintly; the sound of gravel grating on itself, and a slurred male voice.

"Uppity bitch. We'll show you a school night. Hold 'er down Boyd. Let's see them lily white titties."

I whirled again, and found them—the roughnecks Sam had ejected from the bar were gathered around something at the edge of the parking lot. The wind shifted again and I lost the blood scent, but one of the men had moved slightly, revealing a slender leg. At the end of the leg was a highly reflective shoe. A shoe with a bright red sole.

"Get away from her!" I roared, the words out of my mouth quicker than thought. I summoned Jessica and descended on the group with a fury. Pam was not my favorite person, but I could not stand by and let them assault her.

"Cowards!" I snarled, showing fang and grabbed two by the collar. Jessica shot out of the bar. "Get them!" I ordered as three others tried to scatter. But they couldn't outrun Jessica, who plucked them off their feet before they'd gone two steps.

Then Sookie, who had never had the sense to stay away from trouble, burst outside. "What's going on? Jessica?" The she saw Pam. "Cheese and pies! What happened?"

"Get Bellefleur!" I shouted, and she spun around and ran back inside. Pam lay as still as death, bleeding sluggishly from a vicious head wound that had exposed some brain matter. Not far away, a man's belt lay coiled like a deadly snake. One end bore an unusually large and heavy buckle covered in blood. Silver. It had to be silver to do so much damage. They must have lain in wait and caught her as she left the bar. I wondered if they knew she was vampire, or if they'd just gotten extremely lucky.

"What's goin' on out here?" Sheriff Bellefleur growled.

"These … humans … disabled my …er, Pam … and were preparing to assault her," I explained.

"Shit," he said, reaching for his handcuffs. I thrust my captives in his direction, then knelt beside Pam. She was still unconscious, though her wound had healed somewhat. As I gently straightened her limbs, she groaned again and began to come around.

"Bill?" She blinked at me groggily and tried to sit up. "What are you doing? What happened?"

"You were attacked," I said quietly. She raised up on her elbows and looked around, struggling to process what I had said. The wound on her temple still hadn't closed completely, and she squinted in the bright greenish lights of Sam's parking lot.

"These morons took me out? How?"

"I believe they must have clubbed you with something silver as you stepped outside," I explained. Sookie hurried back out carrying a clean, damp cloth and an open bottle of blood.

"Pam? Are you alright?" she said, ignoring me completely.

"She will recover," I replied. Jessica had appeared at Pam's other side and placed an arm beneath her, helping her to a perch on the hood of a nearby car. Sookie followed, handing Pam the bottled blood and dabbing gingerly at her wound. I left her to the women's care and walked over to where Bellefleur had the assailants cuffed and seated on the ground.

"I got backup comin' to take these lowlifes away," he said. "Is the victim alright? Should I call an ambulance?"

"She will be fine in a few moments," I replied. "An ambulance will not be needed."

"Did you see what happened?" Andy asked, taking his notepad out.

"I did not. I was about to get into my car when I caught the scent of blood ..." I paused in case he wanted to ask about that, but he just kept writing, so I continued. "I couldn't tell where it came from, but then I saw these … mongrels. I saw Pam down on the gravel and went to help. She was unconscious and bleeding from a head wound. There is a weapon on the ground nearby," I finished.

"What kind of weapon?" Bellefleur looked up from his notes, all business.

"It appears to be a man's belt with an unusually heavy buckle. There is blood on it, so I assume they must have swung it at her." His pen scratched away furiously. "The blow they delivered would have killed a human," I added grimly.

"And the victim's full name?" His pen was poised, ready for more action.

"Pamela Swynford de Beaufort," she said behind us. "Do you need me to spell that?"

"Hey!" Sam was yelling from the Merlotte's doorway, and sounded put out. "Is anyone still workin' tonight?" Sookie and Jessica exchanged guilty glances and hurried back inside.

"Yes ma'am," Andy was saying to Pam. "I'll need your contact information too. Do you want to press charges?"

"Not necessarily," Pam drawled, dropping fang and leering at her attackers, who evidently had not realized she was vampire. She began walking along the pathetic lineup, hands on her hips.

"Maybe I'll drain them instead. I could use a refill." She swooped down on one of the men, which caused him to lean sideways and vomit. Another lost control of his bladder.

"How 'bout it, boys?" she said with truly frightening smile. "Still want to spend the night together?" A second man began to look ill, and the others were now paler than she was.

Bellefleur scrambled to her side. "Uh, I, uh ... I wouldn't recommend that, ma'am ..."

"Why not?" she purred. "My van's big enough. I could haul them back to Shreveport, save you all that tedious paperwork."

"Andy! No!" "Don't let her take us!" "We didn't mean nothing by it!" The terrified men were groveling now, begging for mercy, as if Andy might be considering that possibility. I thought it more likely that he was groping for ways to dissuade Pam.

"Well, uh," he finally said, "You probably wouldn't enjoy 'em much. They've, uh, they've had an awful lot to drink."

"We've got a holding cell. They'll sober up eventually," Pam suggested. "I'll make 'em last." There was more pleading from the row of miscreants, and the sudden ripe odor of feces.

Just then, Kevin Pryor pulled up in Bon Temps' one secure custody van. "There's no need for that, ma'am," Andy said, with relief. "Prisoner transport's already here." As soon as the loading door was opened, all five leaped up and dove inside. Bellefleur closed the door on them with a heavy thunk.

"Whoa, I ain't never seen that before!" Kevin exclaimed. "What did you do to 'em?"

"I'll tell ya later," Bellefleur growled, and Kevin drove off with the no-doubt grateful felons.

Putting on some latex gloves, Andy grabbed an evidence bag from inside his car and carefully collected the discarded belt. After sealing and labelling it, he retrieved a couple of business cards, giving one to me and one to Pam. "If you think of anything else I should know, give me a call," he said, then got into his car and drove away.

The silence that followed was awkward.

"Well," said Pam "Thanks for your help." The words seemed to stick in her throat.

"It was nothing," I replied. "You'd have recovered quickly and torn them to shreds."

"Still, you didn't have to get involved. Eric will be pleased."

"I don't care what _Eric_ thinks, Pam. I did it for you," I said sharply.

"For me?" She asked suspiciously. "Why would you do that?"

Had no one ever done this woman a simple act of kindness? Perhaps that was why she cultivated such a callous persona. Maybe no one had ever shown her how to care.

"Because I could. Because I was there, and it was the right thing to do. That's all."

The expression on her face was priceless. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

I said goodnight and walked away smiling. No matter how long I lived, I didn't think I would ever see Pamela Swynford de Beaufort speechless again.

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><p><strong>Up next:<strong> Christmas brings plenty of surprises as Jason meets his match in the fairy twins; Lafayette knows how to mask a problem; Sookie faces the holidays without Gran, and a package arrives from Fangtasia.

_We are so excited to be starting this new adventure with you! Thank you so much to the dozens of readers who already have us on alert - we'll do our best to keep you entertained. Get ready for lots of twists, turns, strange happenings, comedy and of course, romantic tension as our favorite characters race to unravel a mystery! We love to hear your feedback and ideas, so feel free to send a review at any time._


	2. Chapter 2  It's A Wonderful Life

**A/N:** Merry Christmas! We won't always be able to post chapters this fast, but rest assured, we know how much waiting sucks. Hopefully this will make waiting for True Blood premiere tonight suck a little less! Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter; we were pleasantly surprised by the reaction to Bill's POV! Hopefully you enjoy this chapter as well. We had a blast putting it together.

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><p><strong>It's a Wonderful Life<strong>

"This is a lot more work than I thought," I muttered as I finished glazing the ham and slid it into the oven. Even though I'd been working for days on my first holiday dinner without Gran, I was feeling short of time and a bit overwhelmed by all the details. Gran had always made the preparations for our big Christmas Eve dinner seem so effortless that until today, I'd not fully realized just how much work went into it. Maybe it was just all the little traditions we'd had that made me miss her so much, but I had some time before Jason was due to arrive and I wanted to go out and visit her.

I bundled up in my old, worn winter coat and walked to the cemetery. As close as her grave was, I felt guilty about not visiting more often. Part of me knew the real reason I hadn't come to talk to her was because I had no way of explaining what had been going on in my life recently. Though she'd been tolerant and open-minded about vampires, I didn't know what she'd think of all that had happened to me since her untimely death. I'd always striven to make her proud, and her guidance had made me the woman I was today. There was no way I'd have survived adolescence without her love and unconditional support, especially given that I had an all access pass to the minds of my fellow teenagers. I told her that and many other things; wished her Merry Christmas and said a heartfelt prayer for her, then made my way home.

Jason arrived soon after, bursting in the front door (and leaving it open) just as I put the last tray of sugar cookies into the oven to bake.

"Hey Sook," he greeted me with a hug. "Smells great in here. Just like old times, ain't it?"

"Almost," I said. "I miss Gran something awful though." Jason was the last family I had left, and I clung to him for just a moment, trying not to cry.

"Yep," he said, holding me tighter. "It's jus' you an' me now. We gotta take care a each other, like you said in Dallas." Jason got a little choked up too, and we just held each other for a moment.

When I pulled away, Jason tipped my chin up with one finger and gave me a serious look. "I know it ain't never gonna be exactly the same, but I brought something that might help." A silly grin broke through. Jason could never stay serious for too long.

"Oh yeah? What's that?" My voice quavered a little. Jason went back to the front door and started dragging something large and heavy inside. A tree. He'd brought me a Christmas tree.

"Stop!" I shouted. "Don't drag that in here. Not after I've been cleaning all week!"

"Huh?" Jason seemed confused and a little hurt. "I thought you'd like it. I cut it special from my lot, just like Daddy used to do for Momma."

Our parents had bought the property that was now Jason's from a man who'd had dreams of starting a Christmas tree farm. He and his wife had planted a couple of acres of Virginia pine and enjoyed watching their dream grow until the wife died of a fast-moving liver cancer. The man had lost interest after that and sold the property to our parents for a song. While they never took the tree lot commercial, our whole family—Momma and Daddy, Grandaddy and Gran, and our Aunt Linda—had always had homegrown Christmas trees after that. It warmed my heart to realize that we could still share this family tradition even though Jason and I were the only ones left to remember it.

"Oh Jason, I love it! But bring it around back and we'll shake it out on the back porch, okay? I want things to look nice for tonight." The fresh-cut trees were always full of windblown grass, bits of loose bark, the dead leaves of other trees, and other forest flotsam, which I didn't want littering my newly vacuumed living room.

Jason grumbled a blue streak, but picked up the tree and lugged it around back. Out on the screen porch, we beat and shook the branches, picked out the dead leaves and grass, and shaped it in a few places until the tree was just right. When it was all done and the resulting mess had been cleared away, we high-fived each other. I started to say, "Gran would call this..."

"...picture perfect," Jason and I finished together. "Yep, she'd a loved this one. Let's go set it up." On the way, I stopped to take the last cookies out of the oven. Jason scorched his fingers stealing one, then went upstairs to drag down the boxes of decorations. I'd felt so alone this season that I hadn't wanted to decorate for Christmas, but now that Jason was here and a wonderful piney fragrance was starting to fill the house, it felt like just the right thing to do.

Getting the tree into its holder and standing up straight took some work, but finally we had it set in its traditional spot next to the fireplace. We were happy to find that the strings of lights all still worked, and while Jason strung them around the branches, I sorted through generations of Stackhouse Christmas ornaments. There was a collection of Jason's and my handiwork, including pinecones with gold spray paint and glittered edges, Santa faces pieced out of felt with cotton ball beards and wiggly eyes, and candy canes made of twisted pipe cleaner. Then I came to the older ornaments, crocheted angels made by Gran and lead toy soldiers that had been her grandfather's, now fitted with wire to hang on the tree. Even though they were bent in places and the paint was chipped, they had always been Jason's favorite.

"Look at this, Sookie." Jason unwrapped a festive ball of artificial mistletoe. "Remember how momma always used to hang this in a different place every year, and then try and catch daddy under it so she could kiss him?"

"Yeah. And I remember how you kissed Hadley under it once and she socked you for it."

"Hey," he laughed. "I was six years old! And she was five. It don't count. Where should we put it this year?"

"Back in the box," I said sadly. I didn't need any reminders that the man I used to kiss was no longer part of my life.

"Aw, Sook," Jason hugged me. "What happened with you and Bill, anyway?"

"I don't want to talk about it," I said, wiping a tear away. "Not today. Just put that away. Or take it home. I don't care."

"Ho ho ho, hookah," Lafayette's voice came booming through the kitchen as he and Tara arrived at the back door. "Merry Christmas Sookie!" Tara called. I ran to greet them, glad to get away from my sadness. Next to Jason, Tara and Lafayette were the nearest thing I had to family.

"Merry Christmas—oh, let me help with those." They were laden with bags and bundles—no wonder Lafayette had made the Santa sound.

We'd been planning this dinner all week. It wouldn't be a full-on traditional Southern meal like Gran would have made, but we aimed to give it a good shot. Lafayette had brought his famous oyster stew, candied yams, and several kinds of relish and pickles. Tara had brought a yummy green bean casserole and homemade macaroni and cheese, along with all the fixings for mulled wine. Jason contributed beer, fresh corn, collard greens and of course, the tree. And I'd made a baked ham with brown sugar glaze, mashed potatoes and gravy, stewed cranberries, ambrosia and Gran's special pecan pie. Just before dinner, I planned to mix up a batch of biscuits to serve with spiced apple butter.

I was sorry that we couldn't include a turkey plus a few more side dishes and desserts for the proper variety. (It's just not a true Southern Christmas dinner unless you need an extra table for the food.) But there's a limit to what six people can eat, even if one of them is Jason.

Tomorrow after church, he and I planned to package up most of the leftovers and take them to First United Methodist in Monroe, where we'd spend part of the day helping the Monroe Kiwanis prepare meals for the shut-ins and the elderly of two parishes. But right now, I helped Tara and Lafayette unload their bounty, placing their covered dishes in the oven with the ham to stay warm.

"Jason!" Tara was delighted to see my big brother, and rushed into his open arms for a hug.

"There's my girl. You're lookin' good, Tara," he said, lifting her off her feet and making her laugh out loud.

"Hey man," Jason greeted Lafayette, "Good to see ya." They bumped fists. "Who wants a beer?" Laf took one, then went out back with Jason for some firewood. Tara said, "I'll wait for the mulled wine. Speaking of..."

She started unpacking wine, oranges and spices from one of the bags she'd brought. I got out the big pot we planned to use and began helping her open the bottles of red wine and slice oranges for the spicy brew. Within a few minutes, it was on the stove and warming up. Mulled wine isn't much of a southern tradition, but I loved the way it made the house smell and planned on having a couple of glasses, even though I wasn't a big drinker.

"Where do you want these?" Tara asked, holding up another bag containing a few gaily wrapped packages. We planned to exchange modest gifts this year (nothing over $20), so of course they'd come prepared.

"How about under the tree?" We headed for the living room, where the guys had started a cozy fire and were now watching a football game and debating which teams had the best chance of making it into the playoffs.

"I thought you weren't going to have a tree this year," Tara said. "What made you change your mind?'

"Jason cut one for me. In fact, we were just decorating it when you got here. Help me finish it off."

Tara looked in the box for more ornaments. "Ooooh, you still have these?" She was pulling out some colorful irregular ovals we'd made out of salt dough as kids. Gran had had us make little picture frames, and when they were baked and painted, she'd pasted photos of me, Jason, Tara and herself inside, then sprayed them with lacquer so they'd last. "I remember when we made these. It was so nice of your Gran to include me. I loved that woman."

"She loved you too, Tara." We hugged each other, remembering all the good times and happy moments Gran had made for the two of us.

There actually wasn't much left to do on the tree. There were several garlands of dried cranberries and popcorn that had survived fairly well, so we added those. And of course a beautiful gold star for the top.

The boys took the boxes back to the attic during a commercial, and Tara and I cleared up the litter of dust, tissue paper and old pine needles that remained. Then we put our small selection of gifts under the tree and stood back to admire the results.

Right about then, Claudine arrived with her twin brother, Claude. I was really glad to see them—last time we'd talked, Claudine hadn't been sure they could make it. Their being here was a welcome surprise.

Both accepted an offer of mulled wine, so Tara and I went to the kitchen to pour mugs for the four of us.

Claudine had taken a seat on one end of the couch and accepted the hot mug gratefully as Lafayette and Jason came back downstairs. Jason's eyes lit up when he saw her, and Lafayette brightened at the sight of Claude's Chippendale hunkiness. Maybe he was rethinking his decision that Claude was too much trouble. Claude, on the other hand, was looking at Jason like he was a cold drink on a long, hot day.

Predictably, Jason ensconced himself next to Claudine and began flirting immediately. Claude wasted no time in sitting down by Jason's other side.

"Hey pretty lady, where'd you come from? I ain't seen you in Merlotte's." Jason laid his most charming smile on her.

"Oh I've been there," Claudine said mysteriously, smoothing her hair and sitting up straighter. "It's absolutely charming." Was she actually preening a bit? Then again, it probably was just a response to the attention; she hadn't minded when the men at Merlotte's checked her out.

"What an interesting watch—did you get that on eBay?" Claude picked up Jason's hand in his and was caressing the heavy watch with his other hand.

"Huh?" Jason gave him a distracted glance. "No, man. Wal-Mart."

"Lovely." Claude's tone left his meaning open to interpretation; Jason seemed oblivious to the possibilities in Claude's inflection.

"So, uh, do you go there often?" Jason was back to working on Claudine, placing his arm behind her on the back of the couch. Tara just shook her head as she caught my eye. We'd seen Jason play this game many times. Something told me with these two, he might be out of his league.

"No, not really," Claudine was saying. "Do you? You look like you work hard. Probably need to cool off a lot." She batted her eyes a little. Oh my gosh, Claudine was definitely flirting back.

"Yeah, pretty often," Jason replied, edging a little closer to her.

"Oh, look," Claude piped up. "You've got some pine needles stuck in your slacks." He reached across to Jason's right thigh, carefully extracted three or four of the long needles, then sensuously smoothed the fabric back into place. Claudine gave him the evil eye as he did so. Claude just winked.

"What? Oh. Thanks, man," Jason acknowledged absently, blissfully unaware of the twins' little competition for his attention.

I could see that Lafayette, who was watching all this from the other sofa, was having trouble suppressing a cackle. He caught Claude's eye with a smirk and murmured, "That boy may be sex on a stick, but he don't bend our way. Ev'body knows that. 'Roun' here, anyway." Claude smiled as if he knew a secret.

"So, Jason," he persisted. "Have you ever thought about dancing? I'll bet you have the perfect body for it." Claude's arm was now resting behind Jason on the couch.

"Naw," Jason replied. "I don't dance."

"Oh yes you do," Tara argued. "I saw you dancing for Lafayette's website."

My eyebrows went up to the attic at that. Neither Jason nor Lafayette had mentioned it, and it was so out of character that there had to've been something fishy about it. I took a quick peek in their heads and got a visual of my brother prancing about in his underwear to a pulsing beat—in front of a camera! Okay, I _so _didn't need to see that.

"That was you?" Claude asked, looking even more interested. This time, Lafayette did laugh. Jason turned pink and started stammering.

"You _definitely _have the body for it," Claude said admiringly. "My club is always looking for fresh, er, faces. You should come in and work a couple of ladies nights. Great tips. Lots of horny women. The ladies would just eat you up." Claude's eyes suggested he wouldn't mind a taste either.

"You're _that _Claude? From that strip club in Monroe?" Jason sounded impressed. "Wait just a minute—that's where you know my sister from?" He frowned and I could see storm clouds gathering. Jason fancied himself "the man of the family" and had a misplaced sense of duty to "protect my honor."

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, boyfriend," Lafayette drawled. "A few of us went there for girls night out to cheer Sookie up, is all."

"Besides," I added indignantly. "Where I go is none of your damn business, Jason Stackhouse."

"So, what do you say?" Claude brought the discussion back to the matter at hand, his fingers lightly brushing Jason's shoulder.

"Well, uh, I don't think I could do that," Jason said awkwardly. "People might see me."

We all laughed at that, since that was sort of the point of stripping. And Jason wasn't exactly known for his modesty.

"People I know, I mean. I don't think I'd like that," Jason amended hurriedly.

"Well," Tara put in, "You could always wear that Laura Bush mask again." Oh, god. That was an image I definitely never needed to see.

"Ah, no," said Claude in a firm voice. "And you'd have to get hotter skivvies—that white shit has got to go."

Okay, I _really _didn't need to hear this.

"I think I'll go start fixing dinner," I squeaked, and escaped to the kitchen.

"I'll help," Claudine offered, leaving Jason to her brother's mercies.

"So what's that game y'all are watching?" Tara asked, moving to take Claudine's place.

Claudine set the table with Gran's best china and silver, while I removed the ham and casseroles from the oven and got the biscuits started. All I had to left do was add the buttermilk and roll them out, so they were in the oven in no time. While they baked to fluffy perfection, I re-warmed the gravy and started dishing food into my best serving bowls. Dinner was on the table in about 20 minutes. Gran would've been proud.

Lafayette said Grace, and we dug in with a vengeance. The food was delicious, and we laughed and chattered and joked through the hearty meal, eating till we couldn't hold another bite.

By the time we'd cleared up and put away the leftovers, it was still only about 10pm, so I suggested that we all watch a Christmas movie. I didn't have any on DVD, but my old VCR still worked, so I found a box of VHS tapes from when Jason and I were kids. Everyone vetoed _Charlie Brown_ and _Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer_, which left _Miracle on 34th Street_ and _It's a Wonderful Life_.

"Man, Sookie, don't you have _Elf_? Will Ferrell's way better than some old black and white movie."

"These are classics, Jason. Besides, you're not the only one here."

"_It's a Wonderful Life_ is my vote," Claudine said with a smile.

"I couldn't care less." Claude added.

"They're all white movies," Tara groused. "How come you don't have _Trading Places_ or _The Kid Who Loved Christmas_?" Beyond that, she had no particular preference, so we all settled in to digest our rich meal and watch Clarence remind George Bailey that every life is worth living.

When we got to the point where the little girl said, "every time a bell rings, an angel gets their wings," Claude snorted. It was the first sound he'd made during the movie.

"If only it was that easy..." he said to Claudine. "You'll never make it. You can't even keep this one away from vampires," he added, nodding his head toward me. Claudine shot him a sharp look, and he rolled his eyes. The exchange confused me, but I didn't press for an explanation.

When the film ended, it was after midnight and time to say goodnight. Claudine left with her brother, who was still trying to inveigle Jason into a private audition. Tara and Lafayette left in a flurry of warm hugs and Christmas wishes. Jason and I walked to the back door arm-in-arm, shared a long hug and promised to meet in the morning for church.

Afterward, I went up to my room and put on my favorite flannel nightgown with the snowflakes on it, washed my face and brushed my teeth. Despite a few hiccups, tonight had been fun. I felt the lingering holiday spirit running through me and had a sudden nostalgic urge to curl up on the couch next to the glittering Christmas tree and enjoy the dying embers of the fire. Just as I had always done as a little girl, I fell asleep.

I'd been dozing for maybe half an hour when the doorbell rang. Yawning, I sat up and shoved my feet into some fuzzy warm slippers, then went to see who was there. Maybe Tara had forgotten her purse or something.

To my surprise, Eric was at the door, wearing a Santa hat and a sexy grin.

"Merry Christmas, Sookie," he said. I'd never in a billion years have thought that Eric Northman would celebrate Christmas. Or show up on my doorstep unless there was some sort of supernatural emergency.

"Eric, what are you doing here? And why are you wearing a Santa hat?"

"It's Christmas Eve."

"I know that."

"The hat was Pam's idea." He grabbed the pompom, which had a tiny bell attached, and gave it a little shake. "You like?"

"Tell Pam that Santa doesn't have fangs," I said, but couldn't help but laugh a bit at the thought of the nightmares generations of children might have at this sight. "Or drive a Corvette."

"But his sleigh is red," Eric pointed out. "So, did you save a little something for Santa to nibble on?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

"Well, there's cookies and milk," I teased, and then shivered. "Brrr, it's freezing out there. Come on in so I can close the door."

Back in the living room I huddled close to the embers, trying to get warm again. Eric dropped his jacket and hat on a chair and came to stand beside me. He looked much less like Santa and much more like the sexy vampire he was, in dark jeans and a tight aqua sweater that brought out the color of his eyes.

"So why _are_ you here?" I asked again. "I already told Pam I can't work New Year's Eve, if that's what you want." I was really hoping there wasn't something more sinister brewing. I'd had my fill of vampire drama recently, and was enjoying being back in my normal routine, free of regular brushes with death.

His eyes twinkled like the lights on the Christmas tree as he smiled broadly. "There's a burning question you need to answer," he said playfully. I raised an eyebrow. "Santa wants to know if you've been naughty or nice this year."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't hide my smile. That impish leer was just too damn sexy.

"I think Santa might be a Nosy Parker," I sassed back, giving him a pretend shove.

Until that moment, Eric had seemed relaxed. But when I touched him, he suddenly inhaled deeply and deliberately, his pupils getting huge and his eyes sort of glazing over. I immediately pulled my hand away.

"Mmm... Sookie..." he said, his voice husky and intense. "What have you been doing this evening? You smell … intoxicating." His fangs popped out and before I could react, he pulled me close and buried his face in my hair, growling softly and nuzzling my head in seven directions at once. I felt like a human catnip toy as my head bobbed around under his nose.

"Mmmmm," he murmured, "You feel soooo good..." His hands roamed all over my body, stroking and gently kneading my soft parts, his body undulating against mine as he emitted little sounds of pleasure.

"Eric!" I squeaked, trying to push him away. "Eric, stop! What are you _doing?_" But it was no use. He held me tighter and his eyes now fixed on my throat as he licked his lips. It looked like he might be getting out of control, and I knew from experience how dangerous an out of control vampire could be.

I screamed and without meaning to, I zapped him with that light from my hands. A hard landing several feet away seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he was in.

"What the hell, Eric!" I was mad. And scared. "If you're going to act like that, you can just leave!"

"No, Sookie, wait," he held both hands out in an appeasing gesture. "That was … unintentional. But your scent … it's not just you, it's … who has been here tonight? Your home smells … irresistible."

I drew in a deep breath, but all I got was the fragrance of cinnamon and pine, and the lingering aroma of mulled wine. Could that make a vampire crazy? And then it hit me. Claudine. And Claude. She'd told me her scent made it dangerous for her to be around vampires. I guess I found out why—it was dangerous as in "delicious."

"Oh fudge," I said. "Some friends came for dinner tonight. A couple of them are fairies. Maybe you should go?" I added regretfully. Though I hadn't been expecting him, I found myself glad he was here and didn't really want to send him away just yet.

"No," he said, sounding more composed. "I'll be alright now. Their scent isn't that strong—it just caught me by surprise, that's all. It'll be fine as long as I don't breathe." And I believed him. Even though he'd made no secret of his attraction to me, he'd never forced himself on me.

"Well..." He _had _stopped before doing any harm. That crazed look in his eye had faded, and he looked genuinely remorseful. "I didn't mean to zap you. If you're sure you can control yourself, you can stay. Some fresh air might help—would you bring in some firewood from out back?"

Eric returned with fresh logs before I'd really had time to process that he was here, and that he was staying. And that he'd apparently come for no other reason than to see me.

More for something to do than because I was actually hungry, I nibbled on a stray cookie. I was still shaking a bit from that bolt of light that had shot out of my body. Eric hadn't mentioned it, but I didn't think he'd let it go without a discussion.

Though I didn't understand exactly why it happened, there was a clear pattern developing. Whenever I felt threatened, the burst of energy would emerge. Luckily for Eric, I'd only been scared enough to want him off me, and this burst seemed to be milder than the others. Since I couldn't control it, I was glad it seemed to be at least proportional to the threat. What struck me as odd was that for some reason, the strongest blast yet had come when Waldo was attacking Eric.

Remembering my manners, I offered Eric the one bottle of Tru Blood I had left, in case he really did want something to, ah, eat. He declined and went about reviving the dying fire while I sat on the couch and admired the view. That vampire certainly knew how to wear a pair of jeans.

When he was satisfied with the arrangement of wood and the flickering flames, he grabbed some throw pillows from the couch and tossed them on the floor. Then he pulled the quilt off of me, sending a shower of cookie crumbs onto the floor.

"Eric, that's my blanket, and I want it back! I'm cold."

"You're cold because you're too far away from the fire. Come down here. You can't properly enjoy it from over there." He settled into the pillows and spread the old quilt my grandfather had made over his legs, though it wasn't quite long enough. I looked at him skeptically for a moment, but decided it did look comfortable.

I settled down on the pillows and he graciously shared his stolen blanket. "You never answered my question, Sookie. Naughty or nice?"

I turned to Eric, my arm bent at the elbow to cradle my head and rested my other hand on the rug in between us.

"What do you think?" I asked, maybe because I wasn't sure myself. Then again, maybe a vampire wasn't the best moral compass.

"Hmm," he said, as he turned to mirror my position. "Let's see." He slowly reached out one finger to trace mine. "Naughty," he said, stroking my pinky. Then he moved to my ring finger. "Nice." Running his finger down my middle one, he said, "naughty" in a mischievous tone. "Nice..." he added, moving to my index finger. "I think we know how this is going to end," he laughed.

"Wait right there. I've got a whole 'nother hand."

"Then nice it is." His hand covered mine. And though the way he'd grabbed me earlier had scared me, this simple gesture stirred up the feelings I'd been trying so hard to bury. "So, tell Santa, what is it that you want for Christmas?"

But that made me frown. Though I knew Eric was just teasing me, it hit a little too close to home. I'd made a deliberate effort to not think about anything I wanted this holiday. Not just because it was the season of giving, but because nothing I wanted was attainable. "Nothing you could actually give me."

"Oh, Sookie," he purred. "I could make all your dreams come true, if you'd let me." I almost snorted at his blatant innuendo. I had no doubt that Eric could fulfill all those dreams I'd had since taking his blood, but not my childhood Christmas wish.

"Not even you could make this happen."

"Tell me anyway."

"It's silly." I was actually kind of embarrassed to tell him.

"Even better."

"I've always wanted a white Christmas. You know, even just a light dusting of snow." I thought of all those Christmas movies I'd watched growing up as a kid, how fascinated I'd been by the thick white blanket that covered their world, and though I loved living in a climate where it was sunny and warm most of the year, I thought just once, it'd be nice to have a proper winter storm. "But it'll never happen here. I've never actually even seen snow, let alone on Christmas morning."

"Sometimes I forget how young and human you are." I didn't know exactly what to say to that so I just kinda shrugged my shoulders. I never forgot that Eric was a thousand-year-old vampire.

"You're right, Sookie. I can't make it snow. But I can tell you about it."

And he did. I turned away from him so I could watch the fire, and he laid his arm over me, drawing me against his body. His accent became more pronounced as he whispered to me about his first memory of waking up to a snow covered village; of tracking animals for trapping, following their footprints in the white powder; of walking through the dense Scandinavian forests, alone, white flakes falling around him, erasing the path he'd followed. And when he said that was the most at peace he'd ever felt, I felt more sadness for him than I did when I'd watched him grieve over Godric's decision to meet the sun.

It wasn't lost on me that all of his stories were from his human life, though he must have seen countless other snowy landscapes in other times and places over the centuries. I turned back toward him, still lying under his arm. We must have been lying there for over an hour, and he never once pushed for more. The contrast between the Eric who had practically mauled me when he'd first arrived and the one who curled up with me in front of the fire could not be starker. The two images of him were difficult to reconcile. I had to remind myself that someone as old as Eric would have more layers, more sides, than I could ever really know.

There were no lines on his face. Even around the corners of his mouth and his eyes, the skin was soft and smooth, so much so that I had to resist an urge to touch him. Only once in a great while did I catch a hint of his true age in the depths of his eyes. What must it feel like, to have so much time, so many memories, constantly weighing on you? I studied his face, looking for answers, as our heads lay inches apart on my old throw pillows.

"Do you think about that often?"

"About what?"

"Your homeland. Your human life." His expression turned serious as his eyebrows pushed together. His hand rubbed a circle on my lower back as he organized a response.

"Think of it? Rarely. Speak of it, even less. You seem to bring out the humanity in me, Sookie." The implication in that simple statement sort of knocked the breath out of me, and I shivered and let out a soft sigh. I drew the blanket up closer around me, pulling it mostly off Eric's legs, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Sometimes I don't feel as human as I used to," I said, before I thought better of it. But as much as I never could quite forget that Eric was a vampire, I was having trouble forgetting that there was something other about me, though I didn't know exactly what. My telepathy had always made me feel different, but I'd just told myself it was an unfortunate quirk. These bolts of energy were harder to ignore.

Eric took my hand in his again, twining his fingers in mine.

"You're very much human. Just something more, too." Eric said it like it was a good thing, but I was less convinced.

I yawned, loud and long. It was pretty late, and I did have to be up early for church and to volunteer. Resisting the urge to just curl up with my cheek against Eric's sweater, I pulled away from him. "I've got to go to bed before I fall asleep right here."

Eric stood up in one swift movement and offered me his hand again. "I should go. I've stayed longer than I intended." He picked up his jacket, revealing two small packages on the chair. "I only meant to drop these off. One's from Pam. The other is something that I've had for a while, but it can never really be mine. I thought you should have it."

"Thank you. I don't really know what to say." He just shrugged his shoulders and turned to the front door. I guess he didn't know what to say, either.

"Sookie, if you wanted a goodnight kiss, all you had to do was ask," he said, a sly grin creeping across his lips as he pointed to a sprig of fresh mistletoe that was perched over the door.

My indignation flared. Not only was I _not _angling for a kiss, I'd had to remind myself several times tonight of all the reasons why kissing Eric was a bad idea. He was hard enough to resist as it was. I definitely wasn't going out of my way to encourage awkward moments.

"I didn't even know that was there. You must have brought it yourself. Where would I even get real mistletoe?"

"I assure you, I did no such thing," he said solemnly. "The last place I would try to entice you into a kiss would be under mistletoe. There was a legend among my people that a kiss under mistletoe might bring the dead back to life."

"You're not dead." He had more _joie de vivre_ than anyone I'd ever met.

"I am." He looked at me seriously, and as if to prove his point, brought my hand to rest above his heart and flattened my palm against his chest.

"Then I guess you'll just have to decide if it's worth the risk," I teased, but he didn't smile like I expected.

Instead, his gaze intensified. "So you do want a kiss, Sookie?"

Still holding our hands on his chest, he used his other arm to pull me close. All I would've had to do was tip my head up, and that would have been invitation enough for his mouth to meet mine.

"I didn't say that." I did want Eric to kiss me, but I wasn't putting my heart on the table when he wouldn't do the same. He stood as still as a statue, his eyes looking right through me. Finally, he blinked a few times and stepped back, hands dropping to his sides.

"I should go. Merry Christmas, Sookie Stackhouse. May all your dreams come true." And he was gone.

When I dreamed that night, it was of walking through a forest, holding Eric's hand as snow fell gently all around us.

The next morning, I woke with that Christmas morning excitement. I put on a pot of coffee and while it brewed, sat down to open my Christmas gifts. I started with Jason's—his was the one wrapped in comics from the Sunday paper, as he was too lazy and cheap to buy proper wrapping paper. He'd given me a new meat tenderizer, to replace the one he borrowed and never returned. Lafayette had given me a set of fancy new lip-glosses with a note that said "for that pornalicious pout." Tara had given me something that was worth a lot more than the $20 limit, at least to me. She'd packaged up her collection of the notes we'd passed to each other in junior high, complete with doodles and drawings and stories we'd made up, in a box she'd covered with an old stash of Lisa Frank stickers. I was looking forward to busting a gut later, as I read through all the silly memories.

When I got to the last two packages, wrapped in shiny red paper with white ribbons, I paused. Part of me was a bit scared as to what Pam could have possibly thought to give me as a gift, but curiosity won and I ripped open the paper. Inside, I found a small box containing ten letterpress business cards with my name embossed above the description "telepathic waitress". Pam. What a sense of humor. I didn't find it nearly as amusing as I'm sure she did, and I hoped whoever she'd had make them didn't get interested enough in her joke to look me up. There was another 12x12 flat package that could only be a calendar. I took a few seconds to wonder what sort of theme Pam would select for me, but anything from puppies posed with designer shoes to more macabre scenes of medieval torture devices seemed plausible, given what I knew about her personality. I was somewhat relieved to find a Fangtasia promotional calendar, with a beautifully handwritten post-it note on the outside that read "no judgment if you never move it past January". So of course I had to look. Mr. January was none other than Eric Northman, posed in white bed sheets wearing nothing but a mischievous grin.

I couldn't help but laugh. It was quite possible that I would leave it on January all year round.

Then I came to the last package, the one that had to be from Eric. His cryptic description last night gave me no indication of what might be inside. There was no note to accompany it, so I had nothing to do but open it. From between folds of tissue paper, I extracted a small green stone disc, rubbed smooth and shiny from years of wear. Engraved on it were images of a tree and a bird. It was a pendant, strung on a cord of black leather. It felt old, ancient, even. And most definitely not of this world, though I couldn't explain why.

How Eric had come across such a relic, and why he'd had the urge to give it to me, I didn't know. What I did know is that when I held it, I felt very much that it was meant to be mine, just as Eric had thought it should be.

From the kitchen, the coffeemaker gurgled cheerily as the pot filled up. I put the pendant in my pocket and went to pour myself a cup. As the steaming liquid cooled, I opened the curtains above the sink. The day was brighter than usual, and as always, the sunshine made me smile. I wondered briefly whether Eric missed days like this. Then I looked again, and gasped.

My whole world sparkled under a sheer layer of Christmas snow.

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><p><em><strong>Up next:<strong>__ Hoyt learns how the other half lives; Jessica makes a splash; Pam gets a helper, and dawn brings a revelation. _


	3. Chapter 3  Auld Fang Syne

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who's put this story on alert/favorite, and especially to everyone that's taken time to review. It's so much fun to read your reactions, guesses and comments! We know it's been a long wait for this—RL has been extra-busy for both of us, and we've gotten this out as fast as possible under the circumstances. The good side: this chapter is extra long. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Auld Fang Syne<strong>

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><p>I was so concerned about setting up for New Year's Eve that I'd slept in one of Fangtasia's guest coffins and brought my outfit so I could get ready at the bar. I wanted to be here at first dark to supervise the last minute preparations for Auld Fang Syne, our first annual New Year's Eve event. It was going to be a classy affair by Shreveport standards, so I'd broken out one of my more elegant beaded black corsets and paired it with a black satin fishtail skirt and those cute black "crystallized" Louboutins.<p>

First priority for the evening was getting the rented blood fountain set up. It was delivered at sundown as promised and came with an unexpected bonus. The delivery boy, Brian, was shy and cute—that slight build coupled with his nerdy glasses was exactly what I'd been craving lately so I invited him to come back for the party. The night looked promising already—that had to be a good omen.

The fountain was a stroke of genius on my part. It came with a carbonation feature that would prevent real blood from clotting, and I'd ordered several magnums of Royalty Blended to make the offering extra-special. The RB wouldn't be obvious to humans, but vampire guests would notice it immediately. Carbonated blood was virtually certain to be a hit with their jaded palates, and I was hoping Eric would eventually agree to let me buy one these fountains for Fangtasia. By my calculations the machine would pay for itself within six months, and tonight's trial should provide all the proof he'd need.

As the crew hurried to set it up, I noticed movement at the front door. First, it opened briefly then flopped shut. After a few thumps and muffled curses, it gradually pried itself open again. Then a scuffed black stiletto heel appeared, followed by a long, skinny leg and chased by a wriggling pair of buttocks in a tight black miniskirt. After the buttocks had wedged themselves into the narrow opening, a head of platinum blond hair and two skinny arms appeared, laden with shopping bags and a large red slush drink.

"Ginger," I began, only to be cut short by an ear-splitting shriek.

"AAAAAIIEEEEAAAAAH! " The barmaid's hands flew up, splattering her drink on the floor, followed quickly by the shopping bags. Her scream startled the setup guy into dropping a heavy tank of CO2 on his foot and he cussed her out under his breath.

Ginger whirled around, trembling. "Pam! What are you doing here? You're never here this early."

"Waiting to scare you," I said, deadpan. "And set up for the party."

She surveyed the mess at her feet in dismay. "Well you did a good job. I better clean this up." She picked up the dripping bags, then bustled over to the sink for a couple of damp cloths and went to work sopping up her mushy mess.

"You're early too," I remarked. "Why?"

"We got some more decorating to finish up, and the new staff still need extra help with prep work so I came in early to give 'em a hand." She'd planned to run silver streamers from the mirror ball to the walls, and hang metallic red "blood drops" and silver snowflakes from the ceiling, but I'd nixed that idea, and instead had gone for an old-world Gothic horror macabre style. Our campy movie posters had been replaced with creepy antique portraits and a few taxidermy crows had been perched around the bar. Ginger hadn't really liked it, but even she agreed that lots of people would. I'd decided to compromise and let her hang the silver snowflakes when she'd insisted it needed at least a hint of a holiday theme. No one could accuse me of being inflexible. I'd drawn the line at Santa hats on the gargoyles though; I could only take so much tacky. The gift shop was well stocked for the event, with sexy calendars featuring Area 5 vampires, and some fabulous commemorative t-shirts with our party slogan on the front (Take a Bite out of New Year's) and the date and our logo on the back. Nothing could be cooler for some humans than showing proof you'd braved a night at a vampire bar!

As she rinsed out her cleanup towels with a brisk efficiency, Ginger added wistfully, "I wish Sookie was workin' tonight—she was a big help last month."

"Yes. Well. Not for lack of trying," I replied, recalling my last visit to Merlotte's. "She's not available."

"Not even for Eric?" Ginger asked in amazement. She, like so many women, could never fathom denying him anything.

"Not even," I said, dryly. Sookie was rather adept at frustrating Eric's desires, which was quite amusing—except when it left me short-staffed at the bar.

"Speakin' of Eric, what time's he comin' in tonight?" Ginger wanted to know. "I been gettin' questions about that all week."

I sighed. Not only did I have to make this party a success without regular staff, we were absent our main attraction as well.

"Eric," I said acidly, "will not be making an appearance. He's been called away."

Ginger was flabbergasted. "Where to?"

"Vampire business," I snapped. Just thinking about it ticked me off all over again. As if losing Eric on one of the most profitable nights of the year wasn't bad enough, he just hadn't been able to resist teasing me about it...

"Pam. How are the new recruits looking?" Eric inquired without looking up from the mail he had brought in.

"Dismal," I said. "It'll be three months before they know what they're doing. If they last that long."

"I told you not to hire out of kindergarten."

"Very funny. We're lucky to be hiring at all—I was hard pressed to find anyone willing to work here after Waldo's murder spree."

"Even after I played the hero?" I rolled my eyes. Eric had acted like he didn't enjoy doing the publicity, but he certainly liked seeing his face on TV. "Well, look on the bright side. We're having a great party in a few days. And you still have Ginger." He opened an envelope, scanned the contents and placed it to one side. The next item was a postcard, which he read quickly, then tossed into the wastebasket.

"It _would _be a great party if we had anyone to wait tables. And the only way that will happen is if we close for three extra nights before then. The whole staff is already scheduled for six shifts a week. They can't do any more overtime."

Eric carried on sorting and opening mail as if he hadn't heard a word I'd said. I huffed, crossed my arms and tapped my well-heeled foot.

Finally, he asked, "Your point is...?"

"How do you expect me to throw a decent New Year's party? The new staff won't be up to speed in time."

"I'm sure you'll manage, Pam. You always do." He sounded utterly bored, which was maddening considering that this party had been his idea in the first place.

"Eric, you're not listening. It's going to be a disaster."

"Get Sookie to work. She knows the drill." As if I hadn't thought of that myself.

"I told you, she has to work. I've already been to Bon Temps to ask her in person. Maybe if you called her..."

"I'm not calling Sookie. If she wants to talk to me, she'll call," Eric said. He sounded aloof but I knew it was eating him up that Sookie hadn't come around since Christmas. Though he hadn't spoken of his visit there, I'd seen many a far off look in his eye since then. As much fun as it was to tease him about it, his moping around waiting for her call was getting old. He was losing focus and that could be dangerous for both of us.

The last envelope was an elaborate baby blue thing embossed with the queen's royal seal. He paused while opening it to cock eyebrow at me. "Have you thought about pitching in to help out?"

NOT funny. "I do not serve humans, Eric." Not even if he ordered me to do so.

"Why not give it a try? See how the other half lives. I'm sure the staff will respect you more if you do." He was smirking now, so I knew he was just playing with me. But with all the work I still had to do for the party, his timing was grating on my last nerve. My frustration grew with every second, as he sat reading a sheet of pale blue vellum.

"The staff had better respect me enough already," I said icily. "If you think it's such a great idea, why don't you try it?"

"I can't," he said, tossing the vellum at me. "I'm not going to be here."

"_What?_" He had better be joking. I was so not in the mood for this.

"Blah, blah, vampire royalty, blah." And now he was mocking me. My temper went ballistic.

"Sophie-Ann is throwing a ball that night. I am 'required to attend'. " The last was intoned with a stuffy pomposity that perfectly fit Sophie-Ann's inflated idea of herself. If I wasn't so mad, I'd have laughed.

"You can't!" I said, feeling a twinge of panic. "You know most of the vermin come here to see you. You haveto be here!"

"No," he said with exaggerated patience, "I have to be in New Orleans." He looked at me solemnly and added, "Actually, we're both summoned, so you're going too."

"Is she out of her mind?" I screeched. " She's knows we're having a big event that night."

"The queen doesn't care about our humble concerns."

"Oh great." I really lost it then. "Fucking wunderbar! First we're understaffed, then we lose our star attraction, and now I won't even be here to unscrew this massive clusterfuck. Who's going to be in charge—Ginger? You know where that will lead." Shrieks and strange sandwiches would be a best case scenario. We'd be lucky if the club didn't burn down.

"Actually …" he said, grinning and tipping his chair back, "I was going to suggest Bill."

"Bill? _Bill? _You have got to be kidding me." I had been pacing, but stopped in my tracks at that. I couldn't believe he'd even say such blasphemy out loud, especially to me.

"Why not?" Eric was using his "eminently reasonable" voice. "He cleans up well, has nice manners and is good with details. You've already done all the planning. I'm sure he's capable of following simple directions."

If I had a blood pressure, it would have gone through the roof. Or blown some important arteries.

"Yes, and I'm Marie Osmond," I snapped. "I am not giving myNew Year's party to Bill."

"Why not? It might loosen him up, and you might learn to appreciate him more," Eric said calmly.

Eric had leaned forward again and was busy typing on his laptop as though he hadn't just dropped a steaming pile of shit on me.

"Are you crazy? Do you want everyone bored to death? 'Start your New Year with a snore'?" He was still busy with his laptop, and still not really paying attention. Why couldn't he see that we had a serious problem here?

"Even Bill isn't that dull. Just ask Janetta." He couldn't possibly be serious about this. Could he?

"Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"You don't think it's a good idea?" Eric asked, surprised at my reaction.

"Let me put it this way." I leaned over the desk and got in his face to ensure his full attention. "If you give my party to Bill, I'm going back to Montana. Tonight."

"Oh." His face fell. "Well, if you feel that way about it…" he thrust the queen's summons at me again and snickered. "I guess it's a good thing you don't have to go."

"What?" I snatched up the translucent vellum as he returned to his computer.

"Take a look—the invitation is just for sheriffs and project coordinators. You don't have to go. But Bill does. I hope you won't miss him too much." He turned his laptop around to show me a new email, adding, "And Mikkel over at Fairy Dust owes me a favor. He's going to loan us three of his best servers for two weeks. They'll be here tomorrow night." His smile had evolved into full-on laughter.

I wanted to stake him or at least bitchslap that stupid smirk off his face. Bastard thought he was funny. I'd show him funny. Just you wait, Eric Northman.

"You enjoyed this, didn't you?" I growled hatefully.

"Don't be so dramatic. You know you love these events. You find the humans entertaining." Maybe I did. But I'd never admit it aloud.

_"Du kommer att betala för detta, skitstövel!"_I snapped.

_"Inte jag alltid?" _he asked sweetly, still chuckling….

"Check. Check." Chow was testing the mike and speakers on our stage as the band began setting up for our first live karaoke night. In addition to debuting the carbonated blood fountain, I was also experimenting with a new style of entertainment tonight. I'd been trying to convince Eric that my market research had shown that humans would not only pay to make fools of themselves, they would also drink more while they did it, but he wouldn't hear of it. As soon as I'd learned he wasn't going to be here, I'd booked a band that specialized in 80s songs, and played along while members of the crowd got on stage to belt out the hits of the post-disco era.

After some prolonged and painful sounding torture, the electric guitars were tuned, the drums were ready, and the musicians had retreated backstage to await their first set. I uncovered my ears in relief. Why couldn't they use electric keyboards like everyone else?

Unbearable as it was to vampire ears, the band's cacophony hadn't masked the sound of a couple entering the bar. Ginger must have forgotten to lock the door.

"We don't open for another hour," I barked before turning to see who the intruders were.

"It's just me, Pam," Jessica said. "Well, and my boyfriend Hoyt. Hoyt, this is Pam. We came early to see if you needed help," she added with enthusiasm. Hoyt squeezed Jessica's hand and nodded his agreement.

"Young love. How sweet it is," I remarked sarcastically.

"Yeah, it really is," Hoyt seemed oblivious to my lack of enthusiasm, and smiled back at Jessica with a dopey grin.

"Well, he's definitely not my type," I said to Jessica, "but you better keep an eye on him. Some vamps go for that big, country boy look. Have you told him how to behave?"

Hoyt objected. "I know how to act," he said defensively.

"I doubt that very much," I replied, looking him over. "This is your first time at Fangtasia, isn't it? If you have the first clue how most vampires will see you, I'll be more than surprised. Most of us aren't as tame as our little Jessica, or even Bill for that matter."

Jessica took umbrage at this. "You don't have to be a bitch, Pam."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," I challenged her. "Well, since you're here, you can help Ginger with decorations," I said. "But first, let me give you some advice. If you pay attention, you might get to go home alive."

"_Alive?_" Jessica squeaked, almost as unsure and nervous as her human.

"You're walking into a place full of unfamiliar vampires without your maker, Jessica. You're not even a year old; you have no connections, and you haven't even been taught our customs. There's a reason most new vampires meet the true death in their first year."

There was also a reason I'd never become a maker: I didn't like giving lectures. But Bill obviously hadn't taught the baby vampire anything, and she couldn't very well help me if she ended up a bloody mess in Ginger's cleaning bucket.

"Why's that?" Jessica asked, the picture of innocence. "And why would they want to hurt Hoyt?"

"For fun. To get a rise out of you, to start a fight. They don't need a reason." I paused and looked at her critically. "Bill really didn't teach you anything, did he?"

"No. So will you please explain?" Jess shifted uneasily from one foot to the other

"If you're here with Horst, but don't make a direct claim on him, he's fair game for any other vampire," I began.

"It's _Hoyt_," Jessica hissed. Whatever.

"And if he doesn't show you the proper respect, it will reflect badly on you. Make you look weak. You can't afford that at your age. So unless either of you want to end up as a pile of goo, you'd better learn the rules, and fast."

Properly chastened, they went in search of Ginger and her decorations.

I planned to handle the door until we reached capacity, so I took up my post. There should be enough time to touch up my nail polish before the swarm descended.

Just as my clear topcoat dried, our over-eager regulars began lining up for opening. I collected their cover charge, glad that word had apparently not yet gotten out that Eric wasn't going to be here tonight. I knew most of them on sight but when I couldn't place a vaguely-familiar looking young woman, I stopped her at the door.

"Let me see some ID," I said.

"Oh, of course Pam," she said. "Anything for you," she reached into her pathetic sack of a purse, pulling out an old beat up Buzz Lightyear wallet that looked like it came from a Happy Meal, and showed me her driver's license.

Holy hell. It was Janetta, the woman who'd attacked Sookie for breaking up with Bill. I hadn't recognized her without the glasses and with her new peroxide pixie cut, but those crazy eyes should have given her away.

"You're not allowed in," I said. "Off with you." I didn't hand her back the twenty she'd given me for her cover charge. I considered it a handling fee.

"But Pam!" she shrieked. "You and I are meant to be! Don't you see! I'm yours!" Now she was not only holding up the line, but making a scene.

"Jessica," I called loud enough for her to hear me inside the bar. She sped over, eager to help. "I need you to handle the door for a moment. Collect the cover charge, make sure they're not underage, I'll be right back." I turned toward Janetta. "Would you like to come with me?"

"Oh, yes!" she exclaimed. I led her out of sight, to one side of the bar.

Once there, I caught her eyes and began to glamour her. "You're not feeling well. You want to leave." As I pushed my will into Janetta, I began to realize that she was already heavily glamoured. Though she wasn't as scrambled as Ginger, a vampire had definitely altered her mind.

"I'm not feeling so good," she intoned flatly.

"That's right. And you want to go home."

"But when can I see you again?" Janetta whined, breaking out of the trance.

"How about never? Is never good for you?" I asked impatiently.

"But I love you." She threw her arms around my neck. "We're meant to be. You said I was yours. You promised." She began to cry.

"No, you're not." I pried her loose, disgusted. What the hell was going on? It was Bill who'd been the target of this crazy woman's obsession, not me—and then I realized what he'd done. When he'd kicked her out on the night she attacked Sookie, he'd also transferred her infatuation to me. Not funny. He was going to pay for that if I had anything to say about it.

"Janetta." She was weeping miserably now. "Janetta, look at me." She raised her teary eyes to gaze at me searchingly. I began the glamour again. "Let me take your pain away," I suggested. She nodded.

"Now take a deep breath, and calm yourself." Under my influence she drew a deep, shuddering breath and began to relax.

"Good, that's very good. Now I'm going to tell you something very important, and I want you to listen very closely. Are you listening now, as hard as you can?" She nodded again, dreamily. Her eyes had lost their focus and I could tell she'd gone very deep this time.

"Very good. This is important, so pay very close attention. Your attraction to vampires has ended. You now realize that vampires cannot give you what you want. You have no more interest in vampires, and you will never return to Fangtasia. In fact, you've found your true purpose in life. You've found God, and wish to devote your life to doing His work." Another nod, and her face relaxed, the lines of sadness and stress smoothing out to reveal a very pretty young woman.

"You're right. I've been a sinner my whole life, but my grandma was right."

"Yes. Your grandma was right. Now get in your car and drive home, very carefully. You'll get a good night's rest, and tomorrow you'll start a brand new life. Understand?"

"Yes," she affirmed softly. "A new life. I'm happy now. I've found my purpose."

"Excellent. Off you go." I released her, then turned her around and gave her a little shove. When I saw her get safely into her car, I sighed and returned to work. Hopefully that was the last we'd see of Janetta.

But no sooner had I gotten rid of her than I spotted another fire that needed dousing, fast. Clearly I could not stay at the door, so I signaled Hector, our bouncer, to take over from Jessica. Carmela, a vamp with a reputation for trouble, had somehow gotten past her and was now sidling up to Hoyt, who'd taken a seat at the bar. I watched as the tall, thin, dark-haired vampire ran her hands over his cheeks, obviously flirting with him. Before he could react, she had him in a headlock, her fangs dangerously close to his neck.

Tapping Jessica on the arm, I pointed. By the set of her jaw, I could see that this provocation would do more than anything else to educate Jess (and Hoyt) about the necessity for vampire-human protocol. I could practically hear the blood in her veins screaming "mine" as she darted across the room to intervene.

Jessica and Carmela both flashed their fangs and hissed, during which Hoyt stood up then abruptly sat down again. Good. Maybe he had been paying attention earlier and realized he had to keep his place in the vampire world—at least the public one.

"He's mine," Jessica growled, and I almost felt a little proud. With just a bit of my guidance, she was actually doing quite well.

"Then you shouldn't leave him alone," said Carmela. "I thought this was the lost and found. Found being the operative word in this case."

"He is _mine_," Jess said, grabbing Hoyt possessively. His jaw was set, but he managed to stay silent.

Carmela could easily have torn Jessica's head off, but she'd seen me approaching and contented herself with a little posturing. She knew better than to fuck with me.

"Time for you to leave," I told her, nodding to the door.

Carmela huffed, "Well, this night was a total waste of make-up." She flounced out the door without a backward glance.

"For future reference," I said to Jessica, "She's on the 'do not admit' list."

"Well you could have told me that," Jessica complained. "I wouldn't have let her in."

"My mistake," I agreed. "You handled that well. Both of you." Jessica's dimples flashed in pleasure at the compliment as she took a seat next to Hoyt.

Up on stage, the band was about to start up, and the lead guitarist was already working the crowd.

"Happy New Year everybody!" he whooped. "Are you ready to rock and roll?" The crowd's response was deafening.

"Okay, here's how it works. You sign up for a song at the bar. If it's from the 80s, chances are it's in our repertoire. The _19_80s, that is, for all you party vamps out there. To get things started, we've got Rachel doing David Bowie's 'Let's Dance!'" This was greeted with much applause and cheering, and soon there was music bouncing off the walls. I _knew_karaoke would be a hit.

So far, the party was off to a great start. We were filling up fast, the dance floor was packed and the bar was mobbed. Chow and Clancy, our new bartender, were working at vamp speed, which thrilled the fangbangers to no end, and Mikkel's loaners were hopping. Best of all, the carbonated blood was a hit.

I was working the crowd, playing "vampire" for delighted tourists and fangbangers, when Chow signaled me from the bar.

"I need some twenties. For some reason we're getting a lot of hundreds tonight." He handed me 20 hundred dollar bills and I raised an eyebrow.

"You want all this in twenties?"

"No, about half should do it," he replied, turning to the next customer. I virtually skipped to the office to get his change; it was going to be a very profitable night. I quickly got Chow's twenties out of the safe, checked my hair and makeup, and headed back to the bar.

I'd just finished restocking the cash when a mean-looking vamp in a sleazy red shirt grabbed his date by the arm and threw her to the floor at his feet, overturning a few bar stools in the process.

"What do you call me?" he growled at her. The entire bar had turned to watch the scene. The girl started sobbing, and he leaned down close and grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. "What do you call me?" He roared again.

"M..m..master," she said through her tears.

Both Hoyt and Jessica turned to look at me, eyes wide.

"Guess he doesn't liked being called sugar booger," I laughed and shrugged.

"You're just going to let him throw her around like that for calling him a stupid nickname?" Jessica protested.

"If you won't do something, I sure as hell ain't going to sit still while a girl gets smacked around," Hoyt added, moving to stand. I shot him a look so dark he sat right back down. The rest of the crowd had turned away and gone back to their conversations as if nothing unusual had happened.

"Were you not listening earlier? Get this: it's none of my business, and it's definitely not any of yours," I said. "She is his."

"What do you mean "his"? Like property?" Jessica sounded shocked. "Pam, I hate to break this to you, but women are not property anymore."

"No, but human pets are considered the property of vampires," I folded my arms across my chest, already bored, and looked pointedly at Jessica's human.

"We're not like that. We're in love." She squeezed Hoyt's hand. "Right, honey?"

He smiled. "Yes we are." He leaned toward her and kissed her cheek.

"That's all fine and good behind closed doors. But in public, especially in front of other vampires, you'd better act like you own him."

"Pam, that's horrible."

"That's being a vampire, sweetheart."

"Jess, it's okay. It's just vamp protocol. I get it." At least one of them had some sense.

Chow hadn't paid the slightest attention to this minor scuffle, and was now serving a most unusual patron—we don't get many werewolves at Fangtasia. The newcomer was an attractive man of medium height, with skin the color of fine caramel, sparkling black eyes and short, stiff black hair. He might have been Native or perhaps Hispanic, and wore a nice blazer, slacks and a dress shirt in an understated baroque print. I do love a man with a sense of style.

"Hey man," he drawled, holding out a hand. "I'm Cujo."

"I can see that." Chow ignored his extended hand. "What are you doing here?"

"Came to see the band. I hear they put on a good show. You got any Thirsty Dog? Preferably Old Leghumper?"

Chow smirked. "Just you." Was he flirting? With a werewolf? This should be good. I'd yet to see Chow show any interest in another sentient being, human, vamp or otherwise.

"Ha ha. Well, what do you recommend then? Any other good microbrews?" Cujo asked.

"I hear Dixie's Blackened Voodoo is pretty good. Then again, I don't drink the stuff."

"Huh. Will it make me a zombie?" The wolf laughed, apparently convinced he was funny.

"I can live in hope," he snarked. "If I throw a stick, will you leave?"

"Don't get your hopes up." Cujo paid for his beer—with yet another hundred dollar bill—and grinned. "So, do you dance?" No doubt about it, the Were was definitely hitting on Chow.

Chow's flying hands paused for a moment, and he took a closer look at Cujo. "Could be," he said.

Cujo smirked back at him. "You like it fast or slow?"

Chow's eyes gleamed. "I like it fast … and hard." I snickered and Cujo laughed out loud. "Well," he said, "Save one for me. I'll be around." He took his bottle of Voodoo wandered closer to the band.

I raised an eyebrow as Chow went back to serving drinks. "What?" he demanded.

"Walking on the wide side?"

"What's it to ya?" he snapped.

I was about to needle him some more when I spotted trouble waiting to happen, in the form of Petros, another vampire on our "do not admit" list. Damn, why didn't I show Jessica that list?

He had a lot of nerve showing up here tonight. What Petros lacked in height, he made up for in poor taste and girth. He was a loud, volatile Greek who'd been turned around the age of 50. His greased back iron-gray hair, bad manners and plethora of heavy gold rings telegraphed a level of refinement better suited to a sleazy pawnshop than Fangtasia. And his judgment was no better than his taste.

Petros had been foolish enough to enter a game of high-stakes poker against Chow, whose skill and uncanny luck were legendary. In just a few hands, Chow had won several of his ugly rings and his beloved, ridiculous custom Mercedes. (I mean really, what vampire needs a sunroof?) Petros had been furious, accusing Chow of cheating and threatening to stake him. I'd heard it had taken three of the other players to eject him from the game.

Petros had been threatening revenge ever since, a habit that won him a permanent spot on "the list" at Fangtasia. But Jessica hadn't known that and now here he was, not five feet from the object of his wrath.

I signaled to Thalia to keep a close eye on him. Thalia was an old friend, and a sheriff in her own right. When I'd learned she planned to attend Auld Fang Syne, I asked if she'd consider coming armed and acting as my back up in Eric's place. She had readily agreed, and I was glad to have her. The small dark haired vamp might not look dangerous, but she was a ferocious fighter, strong and very old, with the tenacity (and personality) of a cranky pit bull. Armed with her secret weapon—a Taser gun with silver darts—Thalia could effectively manage any kind of rowdy without spilling blood. And she did love to use it. She passed through the crowd like a shadow, arriving behind Petros in seconds. Satisfied that things were under control for now, I turned to survey the room and saw something that made me smile.

Brian, my nerdy delivery boy, had returned after all. He'd been so shy that I'd thought he might not come back, but here he was, all ripe for the picking. I examined him for a moment, considering how best to approach my prey. I don't do helpless, shy, or virginal, so those were out. Seductive older woman? Hmm, that might work if he'd been completely withdrawn, but he'd been talking to some of the party girls. Perhaps the excitement of being with a vampire would be enough to catch his interest. I did hope he wasn't a smoker—their blood always tastes so stale and flat.

Focused on my prey, I crossed the room to his side and touched his arm lightly to get his attention.

"Brian," I purred. "So nice to see you again. I was hoping you'd come."

"Oh—Miss Pam, thank you." He transferred his drink—a Vampire's Kiss—from his right hand to his left, wiped his hand then held it out for me to shake.

"Just Pam," I cooed, taking the proffered hand and tucking it into the crook of my arm. "I wanted to thank you for doing such a great job setting up our fountain." He looked a little dazed as if he didn't quite comprehend my words, and tried—not too successfully—not to gawk at my cleavage.

"I did? I mean, you do?"

"Yes, it's running marvelously and is quite a hit with … some of our clientele." I began moving him in the direction of Eric's office.

"There's a big demand for it," he enthused. "We're hearing that the carbonation makes a nice change from, well, from the usual." He looked a little embarrassed now. "Um … I hope I'm not offending you."

"No, not at all." I patted his hand encouragingly.

"Does it get boring—having to eat the same thing all the time?" he asked tentatively as I eased him through the packed room to the "Staff Only" door.

"Not if you prepare each … dish … properly," I purred, allowing a little fang to show. His pupils dilated and his heart sped up then, and I knew his blood would soon be spiced with a zest of adrenaline and arousal. "Let's go somewhere a little quieter," I suggested. He nodded, so I ushered him into the office, closing the door behind us.

"And how do you do that?" he asked, voice husky. "Prepare your dishes?"

When I backed him up against Eric's heavy desk, he was panting a little. I took his glasses off and ran my fingers through his mop of hair.

"First," I purred, "You make sure your guest is comfortable. Are you comfortable, Brian?"

He nodded. I leaned in and nipped his bottom lip. "Good," I cooed into his ear. His temperature rose and he trembled a little, but not in fear. So sweet. Too bad I couldn't take more time with this.

"What should I do?" he asked breathily.

"Let me," I said softly, taking his hands and placing them on my breasts. I squeezed a few times, showing him what I wanted and he took over, kneading and stroking with surprisingly firm, strong hands. I kissed him softly and he moaned a little. As I kissed, licked and nipped along his jaw line, his breath came faster, so after teasing his earlobe a bit, I moved to his throat, using kisses and firm nips to raise his blood, then releasing a shallow breath over the wet skin to sensitize him even further. He shuddered violently and clutched me closer, fully aroused now and breathing in little gasps.

As I undid the collar of his white shirt, he asked softy, "Will it hurt?"

"Do you want it to?" I murmured.

"I don't know..." his voice trailed off, and I smiled. So few of them did know what they wanted, but I liked that he was open to experimenting. This had to be just a quick snack, but if he was tasty enough I might come back for seconds later.

I returned to playing with his throat—nuzzling, licking, nipping, working my way from jaw to shoulder in ever-shrinking circles. When his trembling turned to shuddering and his hips began thrusting, I struck. Jets of blood spurted into my mouth like fish hell bent on spawning as he stiffened and cried out, "Aah, aah, aaah!" I gathered him to me, holding him firmly while I drew deep from the hot, red current of life. And when the tide slackened, I pulled out, licked his throat one last time and released him, running my tongue over his puncture wounds.

He'd stopped shaking, and was looking a bit … drained. He was delicious and I did want him to come back, so I stroked him just a little, feigning tenderness. Humans like that.

"Was that your first time?" I asked sympathetically.

"Yeah," he admitted shyly. "That was … wow. I didn't think I'd … enjoy, you know, just that, that much." He glanced at me, then blushed.

I reached to rebutton his collar and tuck a few stray hairs in place. "Well, y'all come back now, y'hear?"

"But … but what about you? You didn't, er, I mean, shouldn't I … " This boy was just too sweet to be real. I really should have taken more time with him. I patted his cheek.

"Don't you worry about me. I'm. Just. Fine." I licked my lip for emphasis. "There's a washroom down the hall if you want to clean up a little."

"Thanks, I think I will." He stood up a little unsteadily.

Just as I opened the office door to let him go, Jessica hurried up, then skidded to a halt.

"Pam! You better … Oh ..." She broke off, looking from me to Brian uncertainly. "Ah, I don't mean to interrupt, but … "

"Not at all. Brian here was just leaving." I gave him another little pat and steered him toward the staff washroom. "Second door on the right."

Jessica watched him leave, looking slightly embarrassed. I guess she'd never seen anyone else feed.

I turned to the mirror inside Eric's closet and started to reapply my lipstick. "What can I help you with?"

"There's a guy—a vampire—hassling Chow. It's looking ugly. You better come."

We hurried out to the bar, where Petros had climbed up on a stool and now had Chow by the throat. Chow's new werewolf friend, Cujo, was there too, looking ready to shift and attack at any moment.

"What do you mean, you _sold her,_ you cheating _kotsiros! _She's mine! Where is she?" Petros had gone red in the face and was shaking Chow like a rattle. Perhaps unwisely, Chow looked as cocky as ever.

"Not any more. That car was a pile of junk. I sold it to a scrap yard for fifty bucks." Chow spit in his face, fangs at full extension.

_"Na sou sheso sta moutra!" _Petros shrieked. "I'll rip your fucking head off and feed it to my dogs!"

He reached for Chow's head and Thalia hit him with her Taser. Petros abruptly went stiff as a board and fell to the floor. The obnoxious little vamp's eyes rolled back and his jaw gaped wide, exposing his fangs. Thalia held the trigger down for 20 long seconds and bystanders watched in horrified fascination as he jerked spasmodically, making inarticulate sounds. When she finally cut the charge, Petros relaxed into a limp and moaning mass. Chow stalked over and gave him a hearty kick.

"Piece of shit!" he snarled, "Don't fuck with me!"

The stunned onlookers apparently considered this part of the evening's entertainment, as I heard someone say, "This is the best New Year's Eve party I've ever been to!" Humans.

Cujo tried to console Chow, asking if he was alright.

"Yeah." Chow shook him off, still upset. "Stupid greaser's a sore loser, that's all."

Thalia cut in, "We've got three minutes till he regains muscle control. Who wants to help me drag him to the holding cell?"

"I will," Chow growled.

"No," I ordered. There was no point in giving Petros another grudge to nurse. "We need you at the bar. I'll do it."

Together Thalia and I picked up the groaning mass, heaved him down the stairs and shackled Petros in heavy silver chains. Just as we finished securing him, my cell phone rang. Eric.

"How's it going?" he asked. "I can send Bill back early if you need a little help…"

"Only if you want me to give him the true death! Did you know he sicced his crazy fangbanger on me? I'm going to torture him."

"No you're not. That was justifiable payback for your little show with his postcard. Suck it up." I huffed dramatically, annoyed that Eric was defending Bill. The fact that I would have done the same thing in Bill's shoes made no difference at all. Hmm. Maybe Bill and I did have something in common. Now there was a disturbing idea.

"Did you need something, or are you just calling to annoy me?" I asked.

"Both," he replied smugly. "Everything going okay?"

"Just peachy. We're getting more hundreds tonight than we've seen all year. The blood fountain is a huge success, and oh—did I happen to mention we're having a karaoke band too?"

"Pam..." he warned.

"It's been a major hit. I told you humans would pay to make fools of themselves."

"I don't want karaoke at Fangtasia," he said sternly.

"You might change your mind after you count tonight's take," I suggested.

"Is there anything _else _you want to tell me about?" he asked wearily.

"Let me see. Oh, Carmela got in and made a scene. And Petros showed up. He got into it with Chow, so Thalia finally got to try out her new Taser. I've got him in the holding cell."

"Sounds like the trouble fairy's been there again," he said.

"No," I shot back, "She's working at Merlotte's tonight." He chuckled at that.

"So when should I expect you?" I asked him.

"Actually, I won't be back to the bar tonight. Think you can handle it?"

"Please." Of course I could handle it. I'd taken care of stalking fangbangers and crazy vampires tonight, all without chipping my nail polish, hadn't I?

"Are you having that much fun with Sophie-Ann?" I knew how much he hated her little soirées.

"Hardly. You know how she is. She's obsessed with another one of her collections, a bunch of ancient cups this time. She's been showing off all night, boasting and pontificating, trying to make herself feel important. She's even got a photographer from some newspaper following her around."

"So what's more fun than counting a stack of hundreds with me?" Then it clicked. "Our favorite telepath?" I teased. "Just can't stay away, can you?"

"Pam..." he warned, but I carried on anyway.

"Because I'm starting to think you should just stay there and let me be sheriff if you're going to spend all your time chasing fairies."

"You don't have the balls for it Pam," he scoffed.

"Maybe not. But then, I don't have to think with them all the time either." That got a laugh, though it wasn't meant to be funny.

Oh Eriiiic..." Sophie-Ann was calling him. "Midnight approaches..."

Eric groaned quietly into his phone. "Duty calls. She's having us do some kind of photo shoot for the New Year's Eve toast."

"Like she needs more media attention," I said. "Well, it's harmless enough. Better humor her."

"Keep Petros there. I will deal with him on my return," he ordered firmly.

"I'm counting on it, loverboy."

I put my phone away and rechecked Petros' shackles. He might roar like a Minotaur down here, but I didn't want him getting loose again.

Then I went back upstairs to see if yummy little Brian might still be around.

**Up next: **Sookie makes a cheeky phone call, Louisiana's power vamps gather to toast the New Year, Andre tests Eric's mettle, and Eric takes a wrong turn.

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><p><strong>Translations, courtesy of Google:<strong>

_"Du kommer att betala för detta, skitstövel!" - _"You'll pay for this, asshole!" - in Swedish

_"Inte jag alltid?" - _"Don't I always?" - in Swedish

_"kotsiros"_- "piece of shit" - in Cypriot Greek

_"Na sou sheso sta moutra!" _- "I'll shit on your face!" in Cypriot Greek


	4. Chapter 4 La Vie En Rose

A/N: Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing! We're having a blast writing this story, and hope you are enjoying it as well. Things are going to heat up really soon!

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><p><strong>La Vie En Rose<strong>

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><p>I was already aggravated because the flight had been delayed and I'd been forced lie awake in my travel coffin for thirty minutes before we landed. When I learned that the limo taking us from the airport to the queen's estate would be late, I was even more annoyed. I had some business to take care of on the ride through the city, and didn't want to have to make conversation with Bill while we waited.<p>

"I'm thinking of investing in a competitor to Anubis," he said. "Their service has been less than impeccable as of late, and I think that vampires would try an alternative. There's no reason for Anubis to have exclusive control over the market for vampire travel. It doesn't seem very secure, either." Though I thought that was a very wise investment, both financially and strategically, I didn't let on.

"How soon you forget how inconvenient travelling long distances was before the revelation," I said.

"Oh, no, I know them all too well. I have a visitor due to arrive soon, and he still travels the old-fashioned way." I glanced at the clock on my cell phone. The limo was forty-five minutes late. Someone was either grossly incompetent or just trying to piss me off. "I'm not even exactly sure when he'll arrive." Listening to Bill talk about his impending house guest was grating on my nerves.

My phone buzzed, Louis Armstrong's trumpet solo from_ La Vie En Rose _sounding in my pocket. That had to be Pam's doing. I smiled at Bill and answered the call.

"Sookie," I purred into the phone, putting effort into making my voice sound sexy. I hadn't heard from her since Christmas, though I had gotten the polite thank you note for the gift I'd left. Pam reported she was still not speaking to Bill, not doing much besides work and spending time alone in her home. What I didn't know was whether or not she was thinking about me as much as I was thinking about her. The anticipation of just hearing her voice was acute.

But all I heard in the background was the noise of a bar. "Sookie," I said again, this time louder. Bill furrowed his eyebrows at me. When I didn't hear a reply, I called her name one more final time before I heard a muffled curse and then static as she brought the phone to her ear.

"Hi, Eric," she said. "I'm at work, what do you want?"

"_You_ called _me_, Sookie." Now Bill's expression could only be described as a scowl, his lips pursed together in an unpleasant grimace.

"No I didn't," she asserted, but I could tell by the fading background noise she was moving somewhere to have our conversation in private.

"Yes you did."

"If I did, it was an accident. My phone was in my pocket and I heard you hollering for me."

"Oh." Bill noticed the displeasure in my voice, and perked up. Though at first I was delighted for him to know that Sookie was calling me, I was having second thoughts about him witnessing our exchange. I mouthed 'excuse me' to Bill, and darted to the other side of the hangar out of his hearing range to finish the call.

"Goodbye, Eric," she said. But I wasn't nearly done with her.

"Wait. You call me, and you can't even say hello?" I teased.

"I didn't call you. I told you, I butt-dialed you."

"So it was your butt that called me? Tell it I'd much rather exchange pleasantries in person." That got a laugh out of her. The sound caused a strange sensation in my chest, a pleasant ache stirring inside me. "Oh, and Sookie? How did your butt dial all my numbers? Or manage to scroll through your contacts?"

"Speed dial. All it took was hitting the number one. Pam programmed it."

"Ah." Pam did have a history of personalizing the phones of others.

"Is there something you need?" There wasn't a trace of exasperation left in her voice, but she still sounded guarded. Perhaps she was still skeptical of my intentions.

I could hardly blame her. I was unsure of them myself.

"I did hear that there was snow on Christmas morning, though it melted before I rose for the night. They said it hadn't snowed in northern Louisiana for almost a century. Did you see it?"

"Yeah, I did." There was a pause, as if she might add something else. Might say something about our night together, at least give a sign it had meant something to her. But all she said was, "It's already getting busy here. I've got to get back to work."

But I still wanted to take advantage of my opportunity to talk to her. Though I'd been waiting for this moment for a week, I was still unsure of what I wanted to say to her. "Before you go, there's something I've been thinking about."

"I don't really have time to talk now. What's it about?" She seemed frustrated, though I couldn't understand why. But I wanted to. I wanted to understand her. Why she made me feel this way.

And the words came out before I'd considered them. "You. Me. Risk." When it came down to it, that's what it was all about.

There was another long silence. I listened to her breath, imagining the rise and fall of her chest.

"I really don't have time for that conversation right now." Not an outright rejection. This was good.

"Tonight then? I'll be heading back from New Orleans after midnight." Because that was the earliest I could escape. Though there would likely be events afterwards, I was under no obligation to attend them.

"I'm working late, Eric."

"If I arrive before you, I can wait."

"Okay. But I've got to go now."

"Happy New Year, Sookie." She hung up before I could ask her to save her first kiss of the new year for me. I started walking back towards Bill, and though we'd disconnected, said, "I'll see you tonight," for his benefit.

He was actually clenching his teeth, probably to keep from asking about my plans with Sookie. I just smiled. "Looks like the limo's finally here. We climbed in back, and I whipped out my laptop. I hated typing emails on the little keys of my phone.

I confirmed my interview and photo shoot with a national press outlet, something that the AVL was coordinating. I skimmed an email from Gervaise, questioning the progress of my investigation into Clancy's supposed violation. Since I'd no doubt have to speak to him tonight, I I put off responding until then.

My last order of business was correspondence over the incident at The Red River Casino. The insurance company wasn't putting up a fight at all, and had in fact been instructed to have me distribute the final payout to the investors in Victor's club since they hadn't been able to locate him.

I responded with instruction to wire the money to a holding account and use my day man as a contact for the transaction. While I had the information necessary to complete the task, I wondered how the insurance company would have known that vampire businesses are required to register not only with the secretary of state, but also with their local sheriff. But several of the humans Victor had done business with were soured over the turn of events, and being able to restore their goodwill in vampires would please the AVL even more. Anything to keep Nan Flanagan off my back.

"You're a busy man," Bill said, in a mocking tone that was not as understated as he intended.

"Yes, the duties of a sheriff are far more complex and demanding than those of a procurer, I imagine." I skimmed through the rest of my inbox, quickly forwarding on some for Pam to deal with, flagging others for following up with later. "And of course, if I wish to spend my pre-dawn hours in other, more pleasurable activities, I must see to my work now." I closed the cover of my laptop and gave him my most winning smile. Because that's what I was: a winner. And Bill was the fool who'd lost Sookie.

"We have arrived," Bill grumbled. I thought back to the last time I'd visited the queen—only that time I'd had Sookie with me. She'd worn that white bikini and we'd had our first kiss.

As we were shown into the day room, I couldn't help but hope that tonight would be a night for other firsts.

"Refreshments are here, feel free to help yourself," the attendant said, waving a hand at the line of donors and leaving us to mingle with the other guests. In addition to Cleo and Gervaise, the sheriffs from neighboring Areas, there were several other local vampires and a number of Sophie-Ann's sycophantic cronies visiting from neighboring states clustered in conversations scattered around the pool.

"A drink to start the night, Bill?" I asked, noticing him eyeing several of the scantily clad humans lined up between the marble columns.

"I'm sure I'll be hungry later. You?"

"Oh, nothing here could tempt me, when I have plans for something so much better later. I'm sure the queen has nothing to compare with … well of course, you know what I mean."

Bill scowled. I had no idea if Sookie would let me taste her, but I could imply ... and hope.

I spotted Andre, the queen's second, and quickly made my way over to get business out of the way. Though I knew I had to stay until at least midnight, I didn't want to get stuck longer than necessary just because I hadn't been able to turn in my monthly tithe and reports.

"Here you are," I said, handing him a manila folder and white legal-sized envelope. "I trust the queen will be pleased with the revenues from Area 5, not to mention all the strides we've been able to make in our efforts to improve human-vampire relations."

"As always, Sheriff," he said with a nod. "Mingle, have a good time. There are some guests who are looking forward to seeing you."

Business taken care of, I took a moment to scan the room. Front and center was a low stage, where a string quartet played selections from _The Four Seasons _behind Sophie-Ann's elaborate white and gold throne. At the front of the stage, a banquet table draped in white and gold silk bore a collection of antique goblets, each displayed on its own little stand with a museum card describing it. I groaned inwardly. Sophie-Ann was a notorious collector and would no doubt bore us to bloody tears with every detail of her latest obsession.

Nonetheless, I made a polite show of interest, circling the table once and taking a look at each one. The cups were all different, and included a jewelled alabaster chalice with finely engraved twin gold handles and stem. No doubt it had graced some Byzantine altar at one time. Next to it was an exquisitely inlaid ivory drinking tube with a tall, flat handle, the ivory gone a light coffee shade with age. There was a bas relief gold goblet that looked Greek or possibly Roman, and an unusual red stone chalice that looked like a miniature birdbath with its deeply fluted bowl and pedestal. There were even a couple of painted clay goblets. Just as I was wondering what she planned to do with them, the queen joined me with a photographer in tow.

"Eric, how lovely to see you," she fawned. "How is my little barmaid faring these days?"

"She is doing well under my protection, Your Majesty. No one has touched her." Yet, I added silently.

"Keep it that way. I'll be calling for her soon," she ordered, and I stiffened at the prospect.

"So, how do you like my new collection?" The conversation veered in the inevitable direction. I hoped it would be short.

"Very eclectic," I replied. "Some of these pieces look quite ... old."

"They are historical antiques. But the oldest is the ivory—it's Shang dynasty you know, over three thousand years old."

"I hear the Chinese keep a tight grip on their antiquities. How did you persuade them to part with it?" I asked, though I could not care less.

"It was difficult, but when there's a will, there's a way," she said lightly. Then, giving me a very pointed look, she added, "When I want something, I _always _ get my hands on it eventually." So she had noticed my displeasure.

"Of course, Your Majesty," I bowed briefly.

"Well, I must circulate," she said as she moved away. "Make sure you're near the stage at midnight—I'm having the photographer shoot our toast to the New Year."

As I watched her move toward Bill, Gervaise noticed my arrival, and stormed across the room.

"Northman, you have not responded to my inquiries over the matter of—"

"Gervaise, please. Relax. We're here to enjoy ourselves."

"Some of us take our duties seriously," he spat.

Luckily for me, Cleo, another Lousiana sheriff, joined us. "What have you got your panties in a twist over this time, Gervaise?"

"None of your concern," Gervaise glared at her, but she just laughed.

"Same as last time," I supplied. "A vampires that resides in my area, one whom I trust and who is employed by me, has been accused of violating the human of one of his, though he can produce no evidence of an attack. And the human isn't even complaining," I explained.

"Seriously, G, you need to calm the fuck down." Cleo stroked his brow in mock concern, drawing a dark scowl.

"Where's Thalia?" Gervaise asked, changing the subject.

"She sent her second," Cleo replied. Both Gervaise and I raised our eyebrows at this.

"That's disloyal," Gervaise objected.

"You know she does whatever the fuck she wants," Cleo retorted. Turning to me, she asked,"Wasn't she going to hang out with Pam at your bar tonight?" I shrugged. If that was the case, I hadn't heard about it.

Cleo went on. "I hear she has a new toy she wants to try. I think she's hoping there'll be some trouble."

"Not only is that disrespectful," Gervaise huffed, "I don't know why she'd want to miss this. Her Majesty's parties are always entertaining. It is an honor to be invited." He puffed himself up, looking offended on Sophie-Ann's behalf. Cleo and I looked at each other, fighting the urge to roll our eyes. Gervaise began yammering on about the importance of protocol in a civil society and Cleo followed this by sharing the latest vampire gossip. I tuned them both out, trying not to look too obviously bored.

Just when I thought the conversation couldn't get any worse, the queen's newest child sauntered over.

"You didn't bring Sookie with you this time," Hadley whined, interrupting Cleo's story about a vampire from Texas who'd unintentionally met the sun when he'd run out of gas in the middle of no where and hadn't had time to dig himself a proper hole. "The queen said Sookie'd be joining us soon. I was hoping she meant tonight." The young vampire's pout was so human an expression that it was obvious she was freshly turned.

"Who's Sookie?" Cleo asked with mild curiosity.

"No one," I lied.

Hadley took umbrage at that. "She's my cousin."

"She resides in my area," I said as nonchalantly as possible, hoping to effectively silence the conversation, but Cleo's interest was definitely perked. "She wanted to visit her relative when she discovered she'd been made vampire, and I accompanied her to Hadley's debut at the queen's request."

"You miss your family?" she teased Hadley. "You know, before the revelation, new vampires had to leave their homes immediately. They left their families behind and never saw them again." A slight bitterness colored her voice, but Hadley did not pick up on it. She lacked the intuition and insight that made her cousin so distinctive. Though I didn't know which side of Sookie's family was responsible for her Fae lineage, I had trouble thinking that such a simple, uninspiring vampire could have had the same spark as Sookie when she'd been human.

I checked the clock on my phone, though I knew it wasn't nearly late enough for me to leave. I'd have to stay at least until midnight. I'd seen centuries pass with more speed than this evening was taking.

Her. Me. Risk.

I knew I should be thinking about what I meant by those three words. There was the obvious danger of the queen's desire to add her to her collection of children. The complicated web of Fae politics that could so easily draw her in was an incredible peril, but one I'd never be able to tell her about. Neither of these was the risk I meant.

I rarely go into a conversation without knowing exactly what I want to say, exactly how it will go. But when I thought about seeing Sookie, all I could think of was drawing her into my arms and kissing her. Letting my hands roam over her body, peeling back the layers of her clothes to reveal her skin, having her do the same to me. And it wasn't just a physical connection to her I craved. I missed the freedom, the rightness I felt in just being with her.

Just then, I felt a touch on my sleeve—a brave human had approached me.

"Excuse me, but aren't you Eric Northman?" he asked, and though he appeared calm on the outside, the predator in me sensed his fear.

"Yes," I said, then looked away.

"I'm Bob Johansen, a reporter from USA Today." He did not offer to shake hands, which told me he'd bothered to learn at least something about vampire customs. "We're running series of profiles of prominent American vampires. I'll be interviewing Sophie-Ann shortly. But you've made quite a splash apprehending that serial killer. I wondered if you might consent to be interviewed—tell the public a little about that? It's more of a fluff piece, not so much hard a news story."

I glanced at my phone. If time was going to stand still, I might as well kill some. And Nan Flanagan would be pleased—she'd been ecstatic over local coverage of Waldo's capture.

"All right. Don't bore me and I'll answer your questions," I replied.

When she saw the reporter talking to me, the queen abruptly excused herself from her conversation and came over to join us. Latching onto my arm like an ailing dowager, she cooed at the newsman, "Bob—I see you've met my subordinate, Eric Northman."

"Yes," the reporter acknowledged. "We were just going to do a quick interview."

"Charming. You don't mind if I join you?"

"As long as Mr. Northman doesn't mind," he said, looking at me for confirmation.

"Please," I said, smiling at the queen. She never could stand letting someone else have the spotlight.

The reporter got out his notebook. "So Mr. Northman, how does it feel to take down a serial killer?"

Still clutching my arm, Sophie-Ann leaned in and answered before I could speak. "Eric does _nothing_ without my command," she gushed pointedly.

"I see. So this was done at your behest?" Johansen asked her.

"Oh yes," she burbled. "I could not have this killer disrupting my queendom, so I put my best man on it." In fact, the queen had had nothing to do with Waldo's capture and was enraged when the Authority sentenced him to the true death. Close and loving relationships with her progeny seemed to be the queen's special gift. Waldo had been her child; losing him had been especially painful.

"I see. So, Mr. Northman, how did you find the killer?" Johansen asked.

"He was seen at my bar, Fangtasia, with a couple who later turned up dead. When he again associated himself with human couples at my bar, I decided to follow him. He was caught in the act of compelling the men to torture their own wives."

"Who was the young woman with you at the scene—your girlfriend?" How did the reporter know about that? I'd been careful not to mention Sookie in any of my statements and interviews about the incident. Sophie-Ann glared at me—she was still angry about Sookie's involvement.

"One of my employees." I said firmly. "I brought her along to tend to the female victims until the police arrived." I hoped this would deflect further questions about her, but no such luck.

"You're sure she's not someone special? Rumor has it you are one of Shreveport's most eligible bachelors. Any woman would be lucky to have you as a boyfriend."

"I am _so_ not a boy," I said, effectively cutting off that line of questioning. The reporter quickly reverted to his previous topic.

"She was injured, wasn't she? What happened?" Damn! Where was the reporter getting his information? I had to stop this line of inquiry so I caught his eye and glamoured my answer into him.

"No. My employee was not injured." Johansen looked confused for a second, then shrugged and went on to his next question.

"I understand you yourself were injured during the rescue?" he asked.

"Yes. The perpetrator stabbed me before I was able to subdue him." Actually, he had staked me, but Sookie's timely warning had allowed me to deflect his aim. But I saw no point in calling media attention to our vulnerabilities.

"And the City of Shreveport has recognized your personal heroism?" The queen snorted at this, too quietly for the reporter to hear.

"I have been nominated for the Chief's Appreciation Award," I confirmed.

"And how does it feel to have rid the city of a vicious killer?" I would have to tread carefully here to avoid enraging Sophie-Ann even more, yet Flanagan would expect an appropriately human-serving answer. Fortunately, the queen had provided a suitable inspiration.

"I'm pleased to have completed my assignment successfully," I said, nodding to the queen. "And of course gratified to be able to give the citizens of Shreveport some peace of mind. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

"Of course, Mr. Northman, thank you for your time."

"Yes, Eric, thank you," Sophie-Ann said snidely.

I moved on to mingle with some of the other guests, many of whom were prominent in the vampire world. I spotted Armand Faisal, the head of marketing for Anubis Air, and recalled Bill's mention of a possible competitor. Anubis was based in New Orleans, at Louis Armstrong International Airport and Sophie-Ann had invited their executives and board of directors to join the evening's festivities. This would be a golden opportunity to gather some genuine market intelligence. I spoke with Armand for some time about Anubis' operations, marketing initiatives and expansion plans and in the end concluded that Bill was right—there was definitely room for competition. A counter-investment could be lucrative, so after taking leave of Armand, I sent an email instructing my day man Bobby Burnham to investigate.

For the next couple of hours, I went from group to group, making polite conversation and keeping an eye on Sophie-Ann. The queen always had one or more hidden agendas afoot and I made an effort to stay abreast of them. When I saw that she'd been deep in conversation with Bill and Andre for some time, I drifted closer to see what I could pick up. Though they were careful to appear casual, it had to be business because Bill and the queen had no other common ground. I caught only fragments of their discussion, but Bill seemed to be cataloging some of the vampires he'd met on his recent trip. Sophie-Ann listened intently, then expressed pleasure at the number of new names he provided. It sounded like she was having Bill compile a directory of vampires. To what purpose, I did not know. I could see no advantage to amassing such information, and many dangers should it fall into the wrong hands. It was another way Sophie-Ann's capricious and ill-considered notions put her whole kingdom at risk.

It was after eleven—finally—so I decided to call Pam and see how the party at Fangtasia was going. I was vastly amused to learn that Bill had in fact transferred Janetta's obsession to Pam. Pam was furious, but it was no less than she deserved and I told her so. I'd expected her to give me some grief for not being there, but she'd gone me one better. She had taken advantage of my absence to bring in karaoke and apparently it was well received. I sighed, knowing we'd have many future battles over this issue and that eventually, she would win. Sometimes my child was an insubordinate brat. It sounded like the party was a huge success with only a couple of minor disturbances. Nothing required my immediate attention, so I let Pam know I would not be back tonight. She correctly guessed the reason and was giving me grief about _that_ when Sophie-Ann interrupted.

"Oh Eriiiic...Midnight approaches," she called, and I groaned. Quietly, of course.

"Duty calls," I told Pam. "She's having us do some kind of photo shoot for the New Year's Eve toast." While Sophie-Ann's toast was sure to be the height of self-indulgence, it was a welcome signal of the last portion of the evening I was obliged to attend.

I ended the call and made my way to the foot of the stage, sidling up next to Cleo. "You'll be happy to know Thalia got to use her new toy," I whispered, "On Petros." Cleo smirked. "That troublemaker. I can't think of a better test subject." Andre clapped his hands for attention, and Sophie-Ann began speaking.

"Good evening everyone, and happy new year. I hope you've all had a chance to enjoy my new royal collection—precious drinking vessels from the ancient world." She gestured as if they were prizes on a game show, which drew some polite applause.

"As we observe the passing of another year," she went on, "Poets have asked 'Where are the kings that ruled, until they drank from the cup of death?' Perhaps some have drunk from that cup, but we have not. We go on, and find that year after year it is life, not death, that spills over the rim of every cup."

There were murmurs of agreement in the gathering, as elegantly dressed servers bearing trays of crystal glasses of fresh blood began circulating among the group. To my surprise, another server filled the antique goblets on the podium as the queen went on with her speech and the photographer snapped away.

"The past year has been a bountiful one and truly, my cup runneth over. They say that a full cup must be carried steadily. No monarch carries that cup alone, and so tonight, 'with thee beside me and the Cup o'erflowing', I invite Andre, my trusted advisor and right hand, and my loyal sheriffs to toast the new year with me as a token of my gratitude for your undying support." As we joined her on the stage Andre began passing the antiques to our little group, reserving the gold and jeweled cups for himself and the queen. The photographer set up for another series of photos; Sophie-Ann gathered us into a tight semi-circle facing the audience, and proposed her toast.

"The Kurdish people say a shared cup commits one to forty years of friendship—may that be true here tonight. My loyal subjects, let us 'take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne' and raise our glasses to a happy and prosperous new year!" I raised my cup with the others, held it for a few shots, then quickly downed the blood and set it back on one of the little stands. With the tedious part of the evening over, I could now make a polite exit and move on to what I hoped would become the first of many _very _happy new years.

"Bill, I'm heading out. If the queen asks, let her know I had a lovely evening," I said.

"So soon?" He gave me a quizzical look. "The queen has other historical artifacts on display in the library." It was hard to believe Bill was serious. His words were more likely a lame attempt to get me to stay because he didn't want me spending time with Sookie.

"Not soon enough," I said, "You can keep the limo. I'll fly home." I slipped quietly out the side door, intent on my rendezvous with Sookie. And that's when my past caught up with me.

"Eric!" I'd heard nothing from Mila since that night at Fangtasia, and I'd assumed she'd moved on to sponge off some other monarch until she wore out her welcome there too. But my first child was here, gliding down the path between illuminated ponds that stretched in front of Sophie-Ann's impressive estate. Her long white-blond hair trailed after her, giving her an ethereal, otherworldly glow in the moonlight.

I cursed under my breath and refused to smile as she approached me, but did allow her to kiss my cheek. She was, after all, my child, and back when I had been younger and still foolish, I'd imagined I'd always want her by my side. I had not realized that her selfish personality was already set in stone.

"I was hoping you'd come alone tonight," Mila said, looking happy. "Sorry about the way things went in Shreveport."

"You never learn, do you?" I replied sadly. I'd thought she'd make a great vampire. But I'd been wrong.

"Oh, but I have. I've learned how to get ahead in this world. And I've learned that with you gone, no one can stop me."

Then I realized that my own child had set a trap of some kind. I turned around just as Andre dropped silently by from a nearby tree. In a flash he withdrew a sword from the sheath at his hip, and swung for my head.

What was he thinking? Attacking me alone, when he knew full well I was twice his age and strength—and a foot taller—was suicide. I easily knocked the silver sword from his hand, but couldn't take hold of it. Andre had had the protection of leather gloves; my hands were bare.

A look of shock flashed across his face, as if he had really thought he could take me out with one stroke. He recovered quickly and came at me again, barreling into my torso and toppling me. I shoved him off and rolled, pinning him to the ground and grinding his cheek into the rough cement of the path. Andre signaled Mila for help. She'd been watching the scene with a mixture of delight and sorrow, and instead of helping, shook her head and ran back inside.

"Andre—have you gone mad?" I demanded angrily. "What could you hope to gain by attacking me—alone?" He knew I could kill him with one hand.

"Not alone," Andre grunted. He was expecting backup, then. "The queen. Her command," he continued painfully. I was stunned.

"I am loyal, her best sheriff. I have given her no cause," I said. "The Authority wouldn't sign off on this. What is she thinking?" I let up on him a bit so he could talk.

"She isn't thinking." Andre's voice was tinged with regret. "She's half mad with grief and rage over Waldo."

The regret told me that Andre must have thought about this, though. He knew this was wrong, and yet he was doing it anyway. Or at least trying, as he wrested one arm out of my grip long enough to extract a silver dagger from his boot. Before I could dodge, he stabbed me in the gut and wriggled free. I wrenched the knife away from him and tossed it away. He flew at me again, fangs bared, but I managed to pin him down once more. My teeth were at his throat, and I bit down, intending to rip it out, when a stampede of boots signalled the arrival of reinforcements. As much as I wanted to eliminate Andre, killing him would only enrage the queen further, and there was no way I could overpower a brigade of Sophie-Ann's brutes. Not weakened and without weapons. So I left Andre bleeding on the concrete path and crawled into the bushes. I hoped the guards would tend to their master rather than pursue me.

More footsteps approached, prompting the guards to retreat with Andre on his command, and I cautiously emerged from the shrubbery on my hands and knees.

"Eric?" a voice called, and the footsteps came faster. "Are you alright?" I groaned. The last thing I needed was Bill Compton, though I assumed it was his arrival that had triggered Andre to fall back with his guards. I struggled to my feet.

"I'm fine. Just thought my outfit needed more color," I panted wryly.

"Well, if you're being sarcastic, I guess you'll live. What happened here? Do you need weapons?"

"Doesn't matter." He looked at me in disbelief. "It was personal," I added, not wanting to give him cause for alarm. "No weapons." My wound was starting to hurt now, and I grimaced a bit despite myself.

"Eric, you need to heal. You can't fly like that." Bill took my arm and guided me to an ornate bench.

"I'm not going inside like this," I gritted out. There was no way I would go back to the party, especially now that the hostess was trying to kill me.

"Then let me bring you a donor," Bill insisted. As much as I'd have preferred to wait for Sookie, Bill was right. If I wanted to fly myself all the way back to Bon Temps, I needed blood. And there was no guarantee that Sookie would be willing to help me heal.

"Fine," I said, and Bill nodded and departed. I pulled off my jacket and shirt, assessing the wound to my gut. Even without feeding it was already healing, but it was deep and I had lost a lot of blood. I hoped to arrive in Bon Temps with enough time to clean myself up before seeing Sookie. Too bad I didn't have another shirt.

Bill returned with a dark-skinned young man who looked full of vitality. He wasn't my normal type but he would do. Without preamble I stood from the bench, pulled his head to one side and bit. Bill watched, waiting for me to finish. I'd hoped he'd escort the donor back inside and glamour the memory from him, but by the look in his eye, I knew Bill was going to ask questions I didn't want to answer.

When the man's heartbeat began to fade, I stopped so as to not drain him dry. "Thanks," I muttered, then left him in Bill's care and took to the sky before he could interrogate me further. "Eric!" he called after me.

But I had more important things to think about than easing Bill's mind. Sophie-Ann was out to kill me, and I would have to deal with that eventually. For now my thoughts were focused on Sookie. On what I would say to her. On what she might say to me.

As I sped toward Bon Temps I felt a new determination to make her mine. At first the streets below me were crowded and boisterous. As the hour grew late, celebrating humans retired and the scene became quiet and still. After a while I found myself increasingly distracted by the beauty of the clear night sky, the ripple of moonlight on streams and bayous, and the twinkling of multicolored holiday lights on human homes. I knew that Sookie would love this view when I could finally share it with her.

Closer to my goal, city lights gave way to dark forested areas cut with long stretches of empty road. No lights. No lakes. No streams. I let my thoughts wander awhile among the eternal moon and stars before realizing that I must have allowed them to wander too far—-the area I was passing over had become unfamiliar.

Without landmarks I couldn't tell exactly where I was, but a dimly lit road was visible not far away. I touched down there, hoping for signage or some other indication that would point me in the right direction. Unfortunately, this stretch of pavement was not only empty, but anonymous. Still, I didn't think I could be too far off track so I followed my instincts, jogging down the empty road alone under the bright moon and stars, looking for a sign.

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><p><strong>Up next:<strong> Arlene foresees a loss, Sookie has a close encounter, things get steamy in Bon Temps, and Pam gets a cryptic message.


	5. Chapter 5 Nowhere Man

Thanks for reading and reviewing! We were very amused by some predictions in the comments to the last chapter and think all of you will be surprised in chapters to come. And now, we are very excited to present this next chapter. As always, the characters belong to Charlaine Harris and Alan Ball.

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><p><strong>Nowhere Man<strong>

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><p>"Who was that on the phone?" Arlene snuck up behind me, and I stammered to explain.<p>

"No one." Only it was most definitely someone. I made myself busy behind the bar, though Sam would have probably shooed me away.

"Your blush says otherwise," Arlene said with a teasing smile.

"Well, it's none of your business," I snapped, then immediately regretted it when I saw the hurt look on Arlene's face. Though she never hesitated to share every last detail about her romantic encounters, I wasn't even sure if this was romantic myself. Luckily Arlene stomped off before any further drama ensued, her bright red ponytail snapping as she turned.

"_You. Me. Risk." _I replayed the words in my head, wondering what Eric could have meant. Though they echoed our last conversation, standing at my door on Christmas morning, it was just as likely that the risk he was referring to was some impending supernatural disaster.

Luckily the bar was filling up and I'd be busy enough for the rest of night not to think about it. Though some of the residents of Bon Temps made it out to one of the bigger neighboring towns—Clarice, Monroe, even Shreveport—for New Year's, everyone else came to Merlotte's, which made us more than crowded on New Year's Eve.

It wasn't a big surprise to see Jason walk in with his usual swagger an hour and a half before the ball dropped, but I was surprised he didn't have a girl on his arm. Jason usually made sure to have plans for all major events, but tonight he was alone.

"Hey Jase, what's up?" I waved as I darted past him with a round of Bud Light bottles. Sam had ordered a couple cases of cheap champagne for the midnight toast, but other than that, people stuck to their trusty favorites.

Kenya and Kevin must be handling law enforcement duties for the parish tonight, since Andy Bellefleur was in the bar, trying to avoid the soiree his grandmother would no doubt be hosting.

"Hey, Andy, can I get you a tea?" He stammered for a moment, indecisive, though he hadn't had anything else in weeks. I let my shields down just for a second and caught a glimpse into his thoughts. _It's New Year's, I can drink on New Year's...Sure I have to work tomorrow, but I'm off duty now..." _But really, Andy's drinking wasn't any of my business, so I smiled as I waited for his order and scampered on out of his head.

"Ah, what the hell. I'll have a Jack and coke."

"Coming right up," I said. Andy tipped better when he was a drinker, so I wasn't going to try and talk him into staying on the wagon.

When I came back with his drink, none other than Jane Bodehouse has sidled up next to him, already teetering on her completely out-of-season cork wedge sandals.

"Well hey there, Sheriff," she said in what was her attempt at a sultry purr, I guess, but really it came off as a slutty slur. I'd seen Jane unsuccessfully hit on a lot of inappropriate people. The pastor of the Baptist church, the high school quarterback, and her second cousin. But I'd never seen her hit on Andy. Who wasn't exactly sheriff, since Bud hadn't retired yet.

I blocked out my own thoughts about another certain sheriff. All the effort, unfortunately, left a weak spot where Jane's intentions seeped through.

"C'mon, Andy, don't you want to frisk me?" I high-tailed it in the other direction, where Jason was trying to flag me down. He already had a girl on his arm, a tiny waif of a thing with fierce eyes. Jason had definitely been around the block a few times, and I'd never meddled much in his "dating" life. But this girl immediately made the skin on the back of my neck prick up. She looked like the type to get her claws in him and not let go.

"Sook, meet Crystal. Would you believe, she's from Hot Shot." Come to think of it, I could believe it, because I suddenly realized that everyone I'd ever met from Hot Shot had the same kind of thought patterns I was getting from her now, a lot more dark and opaque than Sam's but not quite as gnarly as a Were's.

"Hi," I said. "Can I see your ID?" I asked. Jason made a face at me, but I didn't retract my request. She reluctantly retrieved a driver's license out of her back pocket. No wonder I hadn't seen her in here before; she'd only turned 21 earlier this week. "All right, what can I get you?" I asked.

And it was back to running drinks and cleaning up spills and being a waitress. The energy of the night, the buzz of celebration, began to lift my spirits right along with everyone else's. For better or worse, this was my town; these were my people. Some of them had teased me as a child, and lots of them had thought cruel things about me, about each other. But every once in a while, they were capable of real love, of great kindness. Tonight, they were remembering the past year, making plans for the new one to come.

I couldn't help but do the same. In the past year, my life had irrevocably changed. I'd met my first vampire, had my first love and first heartbreak. I'd lost my grandmother, the most important person in the world to me. I'd learned that I was even more different than I'd always thought; that in addition to my telepathy, I had other powers. Cataloging all of it made me as dizzy as if I had drunk a whole bottle of champagne.

I stopped at the bar and took a deep breath. "You okay, Sookie?" Sam asked, stepping closer and resting a hand on my shoulder.

"Oh, I'm okay. New Year's just makes you think about everything that has happened in the past year, and well, you know how crazy life's been_…_" He didn't know all of it, but he knew enough. I reckoned there were a few things that happened to him that I didn't know about, too.

"Yeah, I know," he said. He tucked a few stray hairs behind my ear and held my gaze for just a moment.

"Sookie, stop making eyes with the boss so he can make me another drink!" Andy Bellefleur growled.

I scurried off faster than a knife fight in a phone booth to carry off some empty glasses from the bar back to the sink by the dishwasher. Even though the busboys usually took care of that, I figured that the more cleanup we all did throughout the night, the sooner we'd get out of here. And I definitely wanted to escape the awkward moment with Sam.

The bar was really hopping by the time the ball got ready to drop, and I started popping bottles of the cheap bubbly Sam was giving away and filling plastic flutes. Best way to avoid an awkward midnight kiss was to be the one distributing champagne. I'd learned that the hard way on New Year's Eve in 2007, when Mike Spencer had ended up licking the side of my face in an attempt to lay one on me.

On the TV above the bar the countdown was just about to get started and people were really cheering along with the crowd in Times Square. As I distributed the champagne, I noticed some very drunk guys rifling through their pockets and talking in hushed voices, so I peeked into their minds.

They were definitely up to no good.

"Hey buddy, why don't you give me that lighter," I politely asked the guy. The Roman candle they were getting ready to light—indoors—wouldn't be much of a bang without it.

"Why don't you fuck off?" Dwight Perry, who I'd known since middle school, had a very limited vocabulary.

"I know you're higher than a Georgia pine, and if you guys are trying to set off the fire alarm and spend the night in jail, there's nothing I can do to stop you. But I'm sure Sam and Andy and the volunteer firefighters would really appreciate it if you took those outside."

"You saying you want to take it outside, sweetheart? But if you have my lighter, you'll have to be the one to flick my Bic." His buddies sure got a laugh out of that. They were more drunk and stupid than dangerous, and I was used to hearing lewd comments in the bar, but that one had to be the dumbest.

That's when Dwight lit the fuse of the Roman candle, which turned out to be as short as a badger's temper. Funny thing was, the flaming balls came out both ends. One hit the ceiling and let off a few sparks, the other backfired on Dwight "Dipstick" Perry and hit in him the gut. A few surprised screams rang through the bar, but Sam was quick enough to hustle the thing outdoors before anyone got hurt. But I did think that Dwight had some burns and the ceiling was a bit singed. One of Dwight's buddies mumbled something about his cheap fireworks. "I always get the good ones, the Dragon Balls, they call 'em."

Sam's a pretty good-natured guy, and he let everyone stay and drink their free champagne and have their kiss, but he closed down early and kicked everyone out instead of staying open late. If his insurance agent found out that live fireworks were going off in the bar, Sam could look forward to a hefty rate increase.

I wasn't terribly broken up about calling it an early night.

Sam insisted we pop open the last few bottles of Andre Brut as we were wrapping up cleaning. I even had half a glass, even though I wasn't the biggest drinker.

"So who's made a New Year's resolution? Let's hear 'em," Sam asked us.

"I'm going to lose five pounds," Arlene declared. Same resolution as last year. And the year before that. After the second husband she'd stopped wishing for new men in her life.

"Sweetheart, you're fine just the size you are," Terry said, giving her a winning smile. "I'm going start fishing instead of just cutting bait. Grab the gator by the snout. You know. Make things happen." If I hadn't had caught a glimmer of a diamond in his thoughts, I wouldn't have known he was talking about proposing to Arlene.

Then Tara chimed in as she wiped down the bar. "I think I'm going to try that anger management. Maybe go to an Al-Anon meeting in Monroe. My life has been so fucked up for so long, I figure it's time for me to try and straighten it out."

"Oh, Tara, that sounds like a great plan. I'm really proud of you," I said, and gave her a quick hug.

"I think I'm going to redecorate. Leopard is tired. I need to spice up my digs," Lafayette said.

"Don't you mean 'spruce'?" Arlene asked.

"If I meant spruce I woulda said spruce," Lafayette sassed back.

"Well, I hope Sam's resolution is to fix the fence in my backyard. Maybe then he'd change his policy on pets. Lisa and Coby really want a dog..." Arlene trailed off.

"Taken under advisement, Arlene," Sam said as he shot me another one of those meaningful looks. "What about you, Sook?"

"I lost a lot of people I care about this past year. My goal is to spend more time with the people I love. I'm going to try to make it count. Starting tomorrow. Jason and I are gonna have lunch together."

"I think that's great. He really needs you," Sam said. "Have a good night, guys. I'm going to go get the deposit in order."

"If there's too much to count, you could always hand out some bonuses," Lafayette joked.

Sam rolled his eyes, but I figured we'd all have a little something extra on our next paycheck. Now that the work was done, our little group was starting to disperse.

"Well, that cute guy that works at the chicken plant said he'd wait around for me to finish up. Goodnight guys," Tara said, and slid out the door with a sly smile. Terry and Arlene said their goodbyes and headed home. Sam was in the back putting the cash in the safe.

"How is it I am the sexiest motherfucker in this town, and I'm the only one going home alone?"

"I'm going home alone, Lafayette," I said.

"Somethin' tells me old Sam there wouldn't be too sad if you had too much to drink and had to stumble on into his bed." Lafayette put his chin down, giving me a pointed stare.

"Lafayette, that's nasty talk! I won't listen to that."

"No baby girl, it's the truth. Ev'body knows it. What you waitin' for?" He made an extravagant gesture in my face.

"Lafayette! I can't date the boss, it wouldn't be right. And I'd have to quit." I could tell I was blushing, and I guess he picked up on it.

"Don't tell me you ain't never thought of it."

"Sure I have. We almost did date. And even considering my disaster of a love life, that would have been a mistake. Sam and I are never going to happen."

"Mm hm." Lafayette looked at me skeptically through his long purple lashes. "I is heading home all by my lonesome. If you don't want to end up like me, you better rethink yo' policy." He slipped into his puffy silver jacket and out the back door, just as Sam came back out of his office.

It was just the two of us now. I wondered if that had been Sam's plan all along.

"Your resolution surprised me, Sookie," Sam said, leaning over the bar with an almost empty bottle of Brut in his hand. He raised an eyebrow and tipped it toward my glass, but I shook my head. No refills for me.

"What, you don't think it's a good idea for me to want to be closer to Jason? He's my brother."

"No, I just figured with everything that's gone on, you'd be resolved to keep vampires out of your life."

"Sam, swearing off vampires would be about as realistic as swearing off all human contact. Which I don't do, even though most of 'em think I'm crazy when really they're the ones driving me crazy with a constant barrage of thoughts."

"It's not just that. There's something different about you. It draws us in," Sam said. "Even before I knew about what you could do, I could tell you were special."

"And I knew you were different the day I came in to interview for my job," I said, remembering the day fondly now, though I'd been nervous as hell at the time. The closest thing to waitressing experience I'd had was working at the Dairy Queen, and I really needed a job. I'd had to quit the last three because I couldn't take listening to everyone's thoughts—especially my bosses'.

"I shouldn't have hired you. I should have asked you out instead. Things'd be so different." I couldn't argue with him. I'd had a crush on Sam at the time, there's no denying that. And even though my experience with dating hadn't made me eager to try it again, I might have said yes to Sam. It wasn't hard for me to envision what our life would be like today, had he done that.

"I'm a fool," he said. "Then again, I don't know what I'd do without my best waitress."

"You're not a fool," I said. "And you can't change the past. None of us can."

"Yeah, you're right." He sighed before looking up at me with those big puppy dog eyes. "So how about a kiss, for what might have been?"

"Oh, Sam, I don't think that's a good idea," I said shyly.

"It's bad luck to go to bed on New Year's without a kiss." What I couldn't tell Sam was that with any luck, I wouldn't be. It just wouldn't be him I was kissing.

I tried to smile at him without either encouragement or pity, but judging by his embarrassed and hurt expression, I'd failed. "I've got to get home. It's late," I said softly.

"Yeah." His disappointment was palpable. "I guess you better go. Goodnight, Sook. See you in a couple days."

"Goodnight Sam." I was glad to escape what had quickly become an uncomfortably awkward situation and hoped everything would be back to normal the next time I saw him.

I didn't want to wait for my car to heat up before pulling out of the parking lot, so I was shivering as I made my way down the highway blowing a white cloud of exhaust out my tailpipe. As carefully as I'd worked most of the night to keep out the thoughts of others, I'd also forced my own thoughts about one Viking vampire out of my mind. Only now, en route to my home, where I expected to find him waiting, did I let myself think of his cryptic words.

"_You. Me. Risk." _

Despite the cold, my hands felt slightly damp on the wheel. Nervous. I couldn't pinpoint the exact time I began to develop feelings for Eric Northman. Was it when he told me about the snow? Or earlier, when we'd worked together to catch a killer? Before then, when we'd worked together to rescue Bill? When he told me he'd keep me safe from the queen? Still sooner, when we'd first exchanged blood?

I couldn't say when, but I couldn't deny it now. I was less sure of his intentions toward me, exactly, and completely sure that even if we both did have _…_ feelings _…_ it was a horrible idea to pursue them.

But that didn't stop me about from remembering how it had felt to lie beside him in front of the fire, his arm draped over me as he whispered stories of far away snow-covered lands. To rest my hand on his silent chest. To look into his eyes and feel a shiver up my spine.

Above all, to know that that when things got ugly, we'd find ourselves on the same side.

As I turned off the parish road and onto Hummingbird Lane, I looked up into the rear view mirror to catch myself smiling, and also caught the flash of a figure in the corner of my vision. I slammed on the brakes just in time to skid to a stop for a flash of white and black that had come out of nowhere.

My heart stopped when I realized the figure I'd just about hit was Eric Northman. I killed the engine and opened the door, tumbling out of the car in surprise.

"What the hell?" I muttered under my breath. Eric stood shirtless and bloody in the glare of my headlights, looking very much like a stunned and injured deer. There was blood in his hair, on his stomach, the corners of his mouth. I took a step closer and he bared his fangs at me.

"Eric?" I said, as softly as I could. My heart was thumping in my chest. Was this some sort of dream? Had I fallen asleep at the wheel? And if so, where was my fairy godmother, Claudine?

But then I realized I must be awake, because there was no way I'd feel this cold in my sleep. Just looking at all of Eric's exposed flesh gave me a chill. Still, something was wrong. The Eric looking back at me wasn't the cunning and ruthless vampire sheriff I knew. He was obviously disoriented. A thousand scenarios ran through my mind: I was hallucinating; someone had shape-shifted into Eric; Eric had a twin or doppelganger. With the crazy stuff I'd seen since being introduced to the supernatural world, none of my wild conjectures seemed out of the question.

"Eric?" I said again, holding my hands up in a show of peace, moving slowly so he'd know I didn't mean him harm. Even in his current state, I didn't think he'd really hurt me. At least I hoped not. I made eye contact with him, didn't break it or let him know how scared I was (well, besides my heartbeat which I couldn't control). I basically followed the advice I'd heard on the National Geographic channel about how to deal with a big predatory cat.

"Eric? It's me. Sookie." But there was no look of recognition in his face. His eyes were wide and blazing blue.

"Sookie," he said, but it was like he was speaking it for the first time, as if the name was unfamiliar and foreign on his tongue.

"Are you okay? What happened?" I asked, and he relaxed from his offensive posture and retracted his fangs.

"I _…_ was flying. The sky was so beautiful. I felt free, happy. Then I was lost." He sounded a little dazed and more than a little confused. Was this some kind of joke?

Eric was making no sense and if he was playing some kind of game, it was getting on my last nerve. He might not feel the cold, but I was freezing my ass off.

"You're all bloody—are you sure you don't remember what happened?" I took a step closer, hoping he wouldn't go on the offensive again. He didn't.

"You have had my blood," he stated as if he was confirming it. No. As if he was _feeling_ it. I suddenly remembered he could do that.

"Yeah. Not exactly a fact I like to dwell on. Get in the car, would ya?" I said, then got in myself and buckled up, watching as he slowly walked over and entered the passenger side. "Try not to get blood on the seat," I said, then sighed. It wouldn't be the first stain on my seats. I reached behind for an old blanket to wrap around his shoulders.

Eric didn't have a smart retort or sideways glance for me. Instead, he hunched over, pulling the worn quilt around his shoulders. As I bumped along Hummingbird Lane, he looked out the window, strangely lost ... even forlorn.

I watched him as we passed the spot where we'd done some mud wrestling, that time he'd changed my tire. (Another possible time I'd identified as a possibility for when I had been the moment I'd first started to develop feelings for him). He didn't show a shred of recognition, let alone the sly leer I expected.

Home at last, I parked my car in back and let myself into the kitchen, looking over my shoulder every so often to make sure Eric was still behind me. He followed me as far as the threshold, but paused at the doorstep.

"You have to invite me in," he said. I couldn't ever recall inviting Eric into my home, but I knew he knew he could come in as he pleased. I'd threatened to rescind his invitation, effectively barring him entrance, but had never followed through.

"You can come on in. I was expecting you to already be here when I got home," I said, and put my coat and purse up on the hook, then went into the kitchen, urging Eric to follow.

"You were expecting me? You know me?" he asked hopefully.

"It's a long story," I said shortly, hoping he wouldn't ask for details.

I gestured for him to have a seat on one of my kitchen chairs, then got out a clean rag and set a large basin under the faucet to fill with warm water. As I watched the stream of water, I tried to figure out how best to handle this strange situation.

When faced with dilemmas, I always picked through my memories for tidbits of Gran's wisdom that might apply, but this time all I could think of was "do what makes everyone feel the most comfortable." Looking at Eric all bloody and disheveled made me very uncomfortable, and I figured he'd feel better too if I helped him get cleaned up. At least it was a place to start.

I wet the rag, then wrung it out. Eric just watched, wide-eyed and silent.

"Let me see," I said, prompting him to raise his arms and push the quilt off his shoulders so I could look at what had been a gash under his ribs. It was healed now. Only thick streaks of dried blood remained.

"What happened?" I asked again, as I gently washed what must have been a deep wound.

"I _…_ I don't remember. Someone attacked me?" His eyes searched mine, as if I might know the answer.

He looked so scared that I didn't press further. Just a few weeks ago, I'd probably have assumed this was some elaborate ruse, nothing more than a ploy to knock me off balance. But when I looked into his eyes, I could that see part of him was just _…_ gone.

"It's gonna be okay," I assured him, though right now that was far from certain. When I rinsed the rag again, the water in the basin turned a dull red, so I dumped it out and ran some fresh, grabbing another clean cloth at the same time. Wetting the rag again, I gently wiped the blood from around his mouth. Whatever had happened earlier, I was sure he'd had his fill of someone, which was good I guess, since I didn't have any Tru Blood on hand.

We passed several minutes in silence as I wiped and swabbed his bloody skin. Then I noticed his head.

"How did you get blood in your hair?" I asked in dismay. There was no way a wet rag could handle that.

"I told you, I don't know." He sounded frustrated. It seemed he really had lost his memories. He appeared to have no idea who I was, and nary a clue about himself.

"Well. You're going to need a shower. Follow me," I said briskly.

First I stopped at my bedroom to show him where he'd be sleeping and grab a towel from the spare closet that doubled as a vampire cubby.

"This is your where you sleep?" Eric asked, looking at my bed. I nodded. "And you had a resting place for vampires built in here?" he added, turning his eyes toward the closet.

I really wanted to roll my eyes at him, but I didn't think he deserved it, since he didn't seem to remember having coerced the contractor into building it.

"No, you did. While I was out of town working for you, a maenad trashed my house. You had it repaired and took the liberty of adding this. I guess it was a smart thing to do, since it seems like you need it now." Recalling that whole incident brought back some annoyance.

Really, it was the secrecy that had pissed me off more than the actual hidey-hole. I liked having the extra storage, especially since it was so cleverly concealed. I didn't have many skeletons lurking in my closets, but if some showed up, at least I had a place to keep them.

"So after you get cleaned up, you can hang out or whatever as long as you're tucked in there by sunrise. We'll figure out what to do with you tomorrow night." I showed him how the hidden door worked, and he nodded in agreement.

Taking him by the hand, I led him into the hall bathroom and showed him how to adjust the water and which bottle was shampoo and which one was conditioner. I laid a fresh towel on top of the toilet seat, and then thinking of it slung low around his hips, added a second.

"I'll go see if I can find you something to wear." I was going to offer to wash his pants, but in addition to being ruined, I was pretty sure they were dry clean only.

"Do you have a man, Sookie?" Eric suddenly looked anxious at the prospect of encountering a jealous husband or boyfriend.

"No, it's just me living here," I explained. "But there might be some of my brother's old clothes around."

Earlier, when I had finally let myself imagine how tonight might go, what Eric and I would talk about, it never crossed my mind that I'd be telling him his own name and looking for clothes that might fit him.

I went through the hall closet and looked through a couple of boxes of Jason's old stuff, but didn't find anything that would fit Eric. Then I remembered that Gran had stored the more sentimental stuff out in the shed. There, I found my brother's old wrestling warm-ups. The gray sweatpants would be short on him, but they'd do.

When I got back in the house, the shower was still running. At that rate, there wasn't going to be any hot water left for me. A regular night at Merlotte's would leave me stinky enough, but with the added smoke of Dipstick's firecracker, I smelled not only beer-battered but extra crispy. I tried not to get too irritated about it. After all, there were much worse things than going to bed without a shower—like not knowing who you were.

I cautiously opened the door to the bathroom again, planning on just laying the sweats on top of his towels, but Eric jerked back the curtain, displacing swirling clouds of steam.

Apparently, Eric really appreciated a hot shower.

"Just dropping off some clothes," I squeaked, trying not to notice Eric's very wet and very naked body.

He leaned back under the spray of the showerhead and ran his hands through his hair, then opened his eyes to look at me.

"Oh, I thought you'd come to join me," he said, but with a shy smile instead of his usual leer.

"No, thank you," I squeaked again. "You should have everything you need. I'm going to bed!" I backed out of the steamy bathroom in a hurry.

Once back in my own room, I changed into my nightshirt and crawled under the covers, very ready to go to sleep and put this strange night behind me. Then I realized that I really should let Pam know about Eric, so I crept down to the kitchen for my cell phone. I didn't know who had attacked him, but I knew I could almost certainly trust Pam, since Eric was her Maker. I might have called Bill, but I was pretty sure that even if Eric had been with Bill earlier, he was most likely still in New Orleans.

Unfortunately, when Pam programmed Eric's number into my phone, she'd neglected to add her own, so all I had was the general number for Fangtasia. I didn't know who might get the message or who could be trusted, so I tried to be as discreet as possible.

"Pam, it's Sookie. If you've lost something recently, I've found it. Call me." I left my number and hung up, exhausted.

There was nothing more I could do for Eric before the sun rose, so I crawled back into bed and prayed for at least a few hours of good sleep.

Eric came in then, light from the bathroom silhouetting him in the doorway. Without consciously planning to, I flipped over half the covers and invited him to lie down beside me. It just didn't seem right to force him to crawl into that hole with a few hours until sunrise. He crawled in gratefully, still toasty warm from his long, hot shower.

"Can I stay here until dawn?" he whispered.

I nodded sleepily, pulling one of the pillows out from under my head for him. I was so tired that my eyes closed again immediately, and precious sleep seemed only seconds away. But Eric just couldn't get comfortable. He couldn't hang his feet off the edge of the bed with the covers tucked in at the bottom, but he seemed reluctant to get too close to me. His tossing and turning was seriously interfering with my ability to go to sleep, so I rolled over to face him.

"It's okay. You're safe here. But you got to quit rolling around so I can get some sleep." I curled up next to him, draping my arm across his chest and resting my head near his shoulder, intent on finally getting some shut-eye. He laced his fingers with mine and started rubbing his thumb on the back of my hand in soothing strokes.

"Thank you, Sookie," I thought I heard him whisper as I finally fell asleep.

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><p><strong>Up next<strong>: Andy Bellefleur finds himself in a jam; the Bon Temps grapevine is buzzing; Hoyt gets carried away, and Sookie learns a naked truth.


	6. Chapter 6: A Little Gossip

Thanks for reading and reviewing! Most characters belong to Charlaine Harris and Alan Ball. We're starting to get to the action part of the story, so I hope you are all as excited as us!

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><p><strong>A Little Gossip<strong>

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><p>The alarm went off, pulling me out of an incredibly realistic dream, a dream so real I'd didn't recognize where I now found myself. My head was full of cotton and my eyes burned. But after a few deep breaths I realized I was tightly tucked in in my own bed, the covers neatly pulled up over me, and I had my arms around my spare pillow.<p>

It'd been a week since I'd had an Eric dream; I thought the effects of his blood were finally fading or I'd just been too tired lately to dream. Though this one wasn't the most graphic or the wildest, not by a long shot, I was surprised it had left me feeling so out of breath, yet completely contented. I lay in bed for as long as I could trying to make sense of it, until my bladder forced me out of bed and across the hall to the bathroom.

The wet towels on the floor next to a dirty pair of tuxedo pants with a 36-inch inseam brought me back to reality.

It hadn't been a dream. I'd really nearly run Eric over last night when I found him running down my road. I'd really washed a lot of dried blood off him. I'd really had to tell him his own name. And I'd really let him climb into my bed and curled up beside him until he had to go to ground for the day.

Holy hell. There was a mind-muddled vampire tucked in my bedroom closet. This was so not how I'd planned on starting the year.

After relieving my full bladder, coffee was the next item on the agenda. Caffeine was going to be required before I could work out a plan to deal with this problem. In the kitchen I found more evidence of last night's escapades. I'd clean up the bloody rags later. Coffee first.

As it was brewing, memories started percolating. The reason last night had seemed so much like a dream was because it was a dream I'd had, weeks ago. And it was kind of scary to think that part of my dream had actually come true. That had to be a coincidence, right? None of my other dreams had ever been prophetic, whether they were about Eric or not.

I poured a cup of coffee and waited for it to cool off before taking my first sip. Just the steam started to wake me up, and I suddenly remembered the way the rest of that dream had gone. I'd had a lot of dreams about Eric and they'd all been some degree of steamy. This one had been hotter than summer nights in Louisiana.

But I didn't have time to sit and dwell on that, and I sure wasn't making any progress on what to do about Eric. Since he was safely tucked away for the day, there was nothing more that I could do until tonight. If his condition—both physical and mental—when he'd ended up on my road last night were any indication, he was in some kind of trouble and had been attacked. I didn't have the first clue as to what to do for a vampire who'd seemingly lost their mind, and if Eric with his thousand-year-old vampire strength had been wounded enough to leave him that bloody, there was nothing I could do to stop them. Hopefully Pam would know what to do. As for me, I still smelled like Sam's bar and needed to get into the shower if I was going to meet Jason for lunch.

Twenty minutes later, I was buffed, scrubbed, shampooed and feeling somewhat human again.

The parking lot was virtually empty when I got there, which is pretty much par for the course on New Year's Day. People like to sleep in after a late night of partying. I wasn't exactly bright eyed and bushy-tailed this morning, but one of my resolutions was to spend more time with the important people in my life, and Jason was the only family I had left. If I'd learned anything from the Waldo incident, it was that life can end at any time and you might not have enough warning to tell your loved ones how much you care.

Jason hadn't arrived yet, so I took a seat at the bar to wait. "Hey Sam," I greeted my boss. "Happy New Year."

"Sookie!" Sam came over to stand in front of me, acting as if he hadn't asked for a kiss last night, or at least like he was trying to cover up his embarrassment with forced cheerfulness. I could do that too, and I did my best to stay out of his thoughts as well. "I wasn't expectin' to see you today," Sam said. "What's happenin'?"

"I'm meeting Jason for lunch, if he's not too hung over." Which was a distinct possibility the way he'd been drinking last night. Or he could possibly still be shacked up with Crystal. But I figured if he wasn't going to show he'd have at least texted me.

"Well if he is, he's got plenty of company," Sam observed. "Last night was a good night, in spite of ... everything. You want something to drink while you wait?"

"Hey Sookie, Happy New Year!" Holly tossed this over her shoulder as she came out of the back with a loaded tray. Since she had last night off, she'd had to work first thing this morning. I hadn't realized there was anyone else here and turned to see whom she was serving. It was Maxine Fortenberry, who was sitting across from Everlee Mason at one of the tables near the kitchen.

"It's about time," Maxine groused. "Why can't people just do their jobs like they're supposed to?" Holly wisely made no comment, setting their plates down pleasantly before asking if they need anything else.

"Thanks Sam, I'll take a sweet tea," I said. The bell on the front door jangled again, and two of my least favorite regulars, Coralee and Vonetta, came in. I was happy not to be working, as those two rarely drank anything but Mountain Dew. Between lusting after Sam and floating crazy conspiracy theories, they ate up a lot of time. And they weren't good tippers either. They holed up in a booth near Maxine and started whispering about something right away.

Behind me, I could hear Everlee trying various avenues to divert Maxine from her complaining, with limited success. Finally she hit on the idea of asking about Hoyt.

"Don't speak to me about that ungrateful child," Maxine snapped. "All I've ever done is look out for his interests, but is that boy thankful? No! Carryin' on about bein' a grown man and makin' his own decisions..."

"Well he is almost thirty," Everlee interjected, but Maxine had built up a full head of steam and would not be derailed.

"If he was a grown man, I wouldn't have to do his thinking for him. Or Andy Bellefleur's. Do you think that man would do his job? He's supposed to be a public servant, and enforce the _law_. But I had to threaten to file a complaint!"

This seemed to increase the pace of Coralee's whispering, with Vonetta adding "Mm hmm, mm hmm" or "I knew it" every so now and then.

I caught Sam's eye and made a face. "What's _that_ about?" I mouthed. He shrugged and went on wiping the water droplets from his tray of clean glasses.

Just then the subject of Maxine's complaints walked in. She harrumphed loudly and changed the subject.

Andy sat down at the other end of the bar, put his head in his hands and groaned. He was looking disheveled, as if he hadn't taken a shower since last night.

"Happy New Year, Andy," I said.

"No, it ain't," he growled. "Goddamn Kevin got food poisoning from bad chowder and crab legs, and I had to cover the end of his graveyard shift. Sam, I need a drink."

"You sure about that?" Though Sam was just trying to be a friend, Andy cut him off.

"Spare me the lectures, Merlotte. Just gimme a Jack and coke."

Jason arrived then, without Crystal, thank goodness. I've got nothing personal against the girl. Don't even know her, to be honest. But being from Hotshot, I doubted she'd be good news for my brother and she had given me a real funny feeling. Jason snagged me into a hug, shouting "Happy new year, Sookie," into my ear so loudly that I was extra glad I wasn't hung over. Several stools away, Andy winced and took another gulp of his drink.

"Same to you," I replied. "C'mon, let's go grab a booth." I wanted to sit by the window, but Jason said he couldn't stand the bright light and dragged me to the other side of the room. We found a booth a couple spots away from Maxine and slid in on opposite sides.

"You get home alright last night?" Jason asked.

"Um, yeah." I _so_ wasn't going to tell Jason about Eric—he'd jump to the wrong conclusion without a doubt. "Why do you ask?"

"You know, lotta people out partyin', probl'y drinkin' an' drivin'. Gotta look out for my baby sis."

Since his face was buried deep in the menu as if he didn't know it like the back of his hand, he didn't see my smirk. The only thing he was looking out for last night was his own tail. Or maybe Crystal's. I figured it wasn't my business to reveal the secrets of the girls Jason was seeing, so I didn't tell him about Crystal being a were-something or other.

Just then Holly arrived to take our orders. "Happy new year, Jason. What can I getcha?" She gave him a big friendly smile and I realized I should warn her about flirting with Jason. Holly was a nice girl and I'd hate to see her get hurt.

"I'll have the chicken finger basket and a Bud," Jason replied, handing her the menu with a dazzling smile.

"I'll have a Burger Lafayette and some more sweet tea," I added.

"Be right back," Holly said brightly.

"So what'd I miss last night?" Jason asked. "I heard there was some excitement here after I left."

"Well, Jane Bodehouse hit on Andy Bellefleur, if you call that excitin'. And Dwight Perry and a bunch of his friends lit off a Roman candle."

"Out in the parking lot? Damn, Crystal woulda liked that. Then again…" and he didn't have to say it out loud. His thoughts about making his own fireworks with Crystal were so powerful and vivid that I got the image loud and clear. Lack of sleep always made maintaining my shields even harder.

"No, inside the bar." I said with disgust. "Sam managed to get it outside before it did too much damage, but we closed right after midnight because of it."

Jason looked around. It didn't take him long to find the blackened spots on the ceiling. "Hoe-_lee!_" he exclaimed. "I bet Sam was pissed."

"I wouldn't—" I was interrupted by a hearty "Happy new year, you gorgeous Stackhouses! Is you ready ta greet the divine?" Lafayette sashayed up to our table, Tara trailing behind and rolling her eyes.

"Lafayette, not everyone wants a piece of your ass," she said tartly.

"Tha's jus' 'cuz they ain't tried it yet," Laf assured her, striking a pose. Jason got up to hug Tara, while Lafayette took his place. Tara plopped down beside me for another hug, and Jason sat down again.

"Have you heard the big news?" Tara asked, her eyes round as ripe plums.

"What news?" I asked. Nothing major could have happened so early in the day. This was Bon Temps, after all. Other than the occasional supernatural showdown (like the maenad incident, for example), not a lot had ever happened around here. I immediately wondered if it was something connected to whatever had left Eric empty-headed and bloody, running down my road.

"About Hoyt," Tara said. I felt bad when a part of me was relieved.

"What about Hoyt—did somethin' happen to him?" Jason was all ears, Hoyt being his best friend and all.

"Oh yeah," Tara said sarcastically. "You could say that."

"His _momma,_" Lafayette said loudly, "start his year off wid a real _bang._" Maxine Fortenberry stiffened righteously and glared at Lafayette, who ignored her.

"She hit his car?" Jason asked, wide eyed. "Was he in it?"

"Nooo hookah, she done one better than that. She done called the _poh_-lice to haul his ass _away_." Maxine was pretending not to hear this, even though Lafayette was speaking so loudly, I was sure Big John could hear him back in the kitchen.

"What?" Jason and I spoke as one. I could hardly think of anyone less likely than Hoyt Fortenberry to be in trouble with the law.

Just then, Holly arrived to take Laf and Tara's orders. Lafayette wanted the crawdads with corn and Tara had the cheese omelet.

"So what happened?" I asked after Holly left. Tara just shrugged and nodded at Lafayette.

"I ain't sho'," he said. "But it sounded like somethin' to do with that new law. Andy sho' as hell didn't want no part a it, but Miz Fortenberry insisted.

"What new law?" I gasped.

"Where you been, baby girl? You ain't heard about that new "consortin' with dangerous vampires" law?"

"Lafayette, what are you talkin' about?" I wanted to shake it out of him.

"They got some new law where, if yo' _family_"—said extra loudly—"don' like yo' vampire friends they can have yo' ass committed fo' up to three days. All they gotta do is sign up some kinda declaration and the poh-lice gotta take you in."

"Later, man," Jason said impatiently. "What happened with Hoyt?"

"I was passin' by his house right after dawn, when a police car come screamin' up."

"What were you doin' way over there?" Jason asked, forgetting his own impatience.

"I foun' me some late night delight," Lafayette said smugly, preening a bit. "I was on my way back home when Andy pull up all lights an' sirens and _Maxine_ come runnin' out like them giant-ass curlers was on fire, hollerin' about how Hoyt got him some fang marks an' Andy needs ta take him away."

"Andy tell her, 'Course he got fang marks, he datin' a damn vampire!' and _Maxine_ 'bout fit to bust when he said dat."

"Tha's the problem, she say. 'You gots to arrest him.' And she waving this piece a paper around like it the American flag. Andy say, "Deys no law 'gainst bein' a fangbanger Miz Fortenberry' and she jes' 'bout ram her finger through his chest, carryin' on how Hoyt ain't no fangbanger. She git right up in his face an' Andy start backin' up an' backin' up an' pretty soon, he fall down the stairs."

"Now that ain't what happened," Coralee butted in. "My sister in law lives in the trailer just next door and she told me Maxine _pushed_ him down the stairs."

"I did not," Maxine huffed indignantly. "He fell."

"Anyhow," Lafayette continued, "She start hollerin' for Hoyt and he musta bin sleepin' cuz he come out on the porch lookin' like somethin' the dawg dragged in."

"Uh huh," said Vonetta. "You could see them fang marks from across the street. I got 'em on video with my phone."

"Why don't you two just mind your own business?" Tara snapped.

"Amen," Lafayette said, continuing, "Maxine say, Andy you git back up here and arrest him! He is consortin' with a dangerous vampire, and we gots to stop it."

"An' Hoyt, he like, What? What is you talkin' bout, mama? An' she say, I signed this paper right here and you goin' ta be _committed_. Dat red-headed witch is eatin' you alive. She's dangerous! Then Andy tell her Jessica ain't dangerous, an' Hoyt, he a consenting adult."

"I shoulda known better than to answer a call for a vampire emergency in broad daylight," Andy said to no-one in particular before taking a long drink.

"Well I just want to thank you for enforcing the law like you're supposed to," Maxine replied staunchly, muttering to Everlee, "Even if it was practically at gunpoint."

By then, Hoyt had been awake enough to grasp what was happening and start protesting his right to date whom he pleased.

"So Andy, he tryin' to tell Hoyt 'bout this new law and how it fo' his own safety, an' Hoyt lookin' at his _mama"_—again, extra loud—"like she growed horns. Hell no, he say. I ain't goin' nowhere. So Andy get out the handcuffs and Hoyt run down them stairs an' roun' the other side a Andy's car."

From what I gathered, a real melee had ensued, with Andy chasing Hoyt and Maxine chasing Andy until finally Andy talked Hoyt into cooperating. "It's only three days," he'd said. "Might be enough to set your mama's mind at ease."

"I did _not _chase him," Maxine said with excess dignity.

"Oh yes you did," countered Vonetta. Waving her cell phone, she added "I got it right here."

Jason leaned over to watch the small screen play and Vonetta clearly enjoyed having him so close. The video ended with Hoyt reluctantly getting into the squad car, and Andy driving off looking like his head was about to explode. No wonder he was cranky today.

"Andy, what the hell did you do with Hoyt?" Jason looked ready for a fight.

"You leave him alone, Jason Stackhouse," Maxine scolded. "He did the right thing. Eventually."

"The right thing? How can draggin' him off against his will be the right thing? Where'd you take him, Andy?"

"To a safe place for evaluation."

"Evaluation?" Jason was indignant. "What kinda evaluation?"

"Psychiatric," Andy said flatly. "And frankly," he added, looking at me, "I ain't so sure it's a bad idea."

"It would serve you right too, young lady," Maxine said, looking down her nose at me.

"You just mind your own business, both of you!" Now I was mad too. Andy knew damn well that Bill wasn't dangerous, and he didn't know about Eric. Yet. I hoped. Maxine was just plain crazy.

"What about Hoyt?" Jason asked again. "Where'd you take him? We ain't got no psycho—whatever in Bon Temps. Or Monroe neither."

"I can't reveal the location Stackhouse, seein' as how your sister works with the vamp in question," Andy said officiously. I just raised an eyebrow at him. He knew good and well I could pick it out of his head. And I did.

"I think the nearest mental hospital's in Shreveport," Tara said uncertainly. "Would they take him there?"

"Naw," Lafayette put in. "The _family_ gets to decide where. An' I hear the Fellowship's got some kinda facility in Clarice."

"They do," I said confidently. "It's called God's Light Refocus and Recovery, and that's where Hoyt is." Andy's face fell at that. I guess he'd forgotten about my little talent. Maxine looked scared. I could 'hear' her wondering just how I'd known that, when I hadn't known about Hoyt's commital until just now. I smiled at her sweetly and she hastily looked away.

_"There's something creepy about that Stackhouse girl," _she was thinking. _"I just don't understand how poor Adele put up with her all those years, rest her soul." _ No, Maxine, you wouldn't understand. Unlike you, Gran actually had a heart.

Holly appeared with our food and set our orders in front of us, then scurried back to the kitchen to avoid the controversy. Jason dug into to his chicken strip basket, more or less inhaling it, but I didn't have much of an appetite any more, so I shared my burger and fries with Lafayette and Tara.

"As soon as we're done eating, I'm gonna drive over to Clarice and see about Hoyt. That ain't right, locking him up like that. Who knows what they'll do to him," Jason said, his mouth still full of chicken.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Tara said. "If they're anything like rehab, they won't let him have contact with anyone when he first gets there."

"Well what am I supposed to do then? I can't just leave him there, he's my friend."

Since we all knew it was a waste of time to argue with Jason once his mind was made up, no one bothered to outline all the reasons why it was a bad idea. Jason kept shoveling his lunch in his mouth and washing it down with his beer.

"So sorry to cut this short, but I'm gonna go," Jason said, and ran out, leaving me with the bill, I realized.

After I left Merlotte's I stopped at the Grabbit Kwik to fill up my car with gas. Rosie, who worked as a secretary down in the sheriff's office, was standing at the pump on the other side of the one I pulled up to.

"Hi, Sookie," she greeted me in a much more friendly fashion than she normally did. I didn't have to be able to read her thoughts to know she had some gossip she thought was extra-juicy to share with me. "Did Jason hear about Hoyt?" she asked with a delighted grin on her face.

"Yeah," I said, hoping to disappoint her enough that she wouldn't want to tell me the story, but she seemed even more excited to discuss it.

"Oh, and you must have an opinion on the situation. Since you were dating a vampire yourself," she said.

"Sure I do."

"So what is it?" she pressed.

"I can see why people think that law is a good thing. Vampires can be really mean and scary, and the rumors about them being able to hypnotize you and control your thoughts are true. But having feelings for a vampire doesn't mean you're crazy. Hoyt's got to make up his own mind about Jessica, and he should be free to love whoever he wants. When it's a woman who stays with a man who beats her, the police don't come and throw her in an institution. Why should it be any different when it's a vampire instead of a man?"

I put the gas pump back on its cradle and twisted the cap back in before Rosie could respond. When I pulled out onto the highway, she was still standing there with her mouth hanging open.

If I was going to have a vampire staying in my house, I needed to get some True Blood. Grabbit Kwik was out, so I stopped by the liquor store to pick some up. Unfortunately, I'd forgotten that today was a holiday and they were closed. If worst came to worst, I could buy some from Merlotte's, but I didn't want to have to explain to Sam why I needed it. Luckily, the Walmart in Monroe had started carrying it, so I didn't have to. I also figured that Eric should probably have something besides my brother's old sweats to wear, so while I was there, I'd bought him a three pack of Hanes black pocket tees, some cheap jeans, and a pair of flip flops, which they had even though they were out of season. I was too embarrassed to decide on boxers or briefs so I didn't get either. At the checkout line I couldn't help adding a Snickers bar for myself. Spending all that money on Eric didn't seem right without at least getting myself a small treat.

Once back at home I got to work on some of the chores I'd neglected this week. I changed my sheets since I'd slept in them without washing off my Merlotte's stink. I cleaned my bathroom from top to bottom, hoping Eric hadn't noticed the soap scum on the tub last night. And I figured I'd better dismantle the Christmas tree before it got dried out and became a fire hazard, so I removed all the decorations and dragged the tree to the back yard. Maybe Eric would break it up for me later.

Back inside, I hauled out the boxes of Christmas decorations, carefully packed each item away, then hauled the boxes back up to the attic. Taking the tree down had left a bit of a mess, so I got out the vacuum and ran it over the living room. Though I was really ready for a nap after all that work, I figured I'd better take a shower. I wasn't sure exactly what time sunset would be and I wanted to introduce Eric to hygienic Sookie since he didn't seem to have a memory of me in my non-stinky state and I'd worked up a little bit of a sweat while cleaning.

I had just thrown my clothes in the hamper and was about to turn on the water when I heard my cell phone ring downstairs. I threw on my robe and went to go answer it.

"What's up Jason?"

"Nothing. They won't even tell me for sure that he's here, let alone see him. I tried to sneak in but they caught me, said if I didn't leave they'd call the police. I drove out here for nothing," my brother whined.

"You should have listened to Tara. She tried to tell you. Or at least called ahead first," I chastised him. "But I'm sorry about Hoyt. They can't hurt him, and from what Lafayette said they can only hold him for a few days anyway. He'll be okay. You're a good friend to try, but there isn't much you can do."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks though, sis," he said.

"I was just about to get in the shower. I'll talk to you later."

The sky was darker than I'd realized. I thought I should have my clothes in the bathroom to get dressed after my shower, just in case I didn't finish before Eric woke up.

It must have been later than I realized, or else vampires rose earlier than I expected. Because when I opened the door to my room, Eric was already up, and naked, standing next to my bed.

Eric. Naked. In my bedroom. I yanked the door shut again and darted across the hall to the bathroom. Now what? As I stood there leaning against the sink counter, wondering what to do next, the door opened slowly and Eric's face appeared in the mirror behind me, a shy smile twitching at the corners of his mouth in the most inviting way.

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><p><strong>Up next:<strong> Eric uncovers complications; Pam loses a bet; Sookie finds herself in hot water; Bill's worst nightmare come true.

**PS**: There will be a teaser for chapter 7 posted on mo's blog. A link is on her profile, or look for moxiemosvmfanfic(dot)wordpress(dot)com.


	7. Chapter 7: I Want You

Thanks to everyone for sticking out with this story, especially those who have been around since the beginning. Hope you enjoy the chapter. **  
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**I Want You**

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><p>I rose just as the sun set to find that Sookie had left some new clothes for me on the chair outside her closet. I gladly shed the ill-fitting pants she'd given me last night and was shaking out the folded pair of jeans when the bedroom door creaked faintly and I heard Sookie gasp.<p>

When I turned around, she was gone. I followed and found her in the bathroom leaning against the sink. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, feeding the vivid blush on her reflection in the mirror. I could feel the stir of attraction in her blood, but there was something else there too, something harder to define. Cautiously, I gave her a small smile, signaling I meant no harm. Her eyes fell, breaking our connection, and her fingers played with a loose thread at the hem of her red silk robe. A flood of contradictory feelings flowed from her to me.

She felt so empty, so lost. So full of longing. And almost as confused as I had been last night when she'd found me on the road. I wanted to comfort her, as she had done for me. She glanced up again, meeting my eyes in the mirror.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I didn't mean to intrude. I didn't think you'd be up yet."

"It's your bedroom—how could you intrude?" I asked gently.

I stood behind her, letting my hands rest on her shoulders. She watched as my eyes traveled from the tips of her blond hair, down the curves her robe did nothing to conceal. Still, it wasn't enough; I wanted to see all of her.

One of my hands ran down her arm, and then I wrapped one arm around her waist. The other reached up to lift her hair over to one side, and I lightly brushed the smooth skin of her neck with the tip of one finger.

"So soft," I whispered. She didn't pull away from me, but I still felt her hesitation. Her eyes lifted up to meet mine in the mirror again.

"Were we lovers before?" I asked. Touching her felt so natural, so instinctive. It was hard to believe I had not known her body before.

"No," she whispered. I bent to kiss her neck, lightly, just brushing my lips against her skin. "Well, not exactly." _Not yet_, is what she was saying.

"Then I was a fool." That could be the only explanation. It was my failure, one I hoped to remedy immediately. Peppering her neck with soft kisses, I let my hands slide over her hips, gripping her waist.

"It wasn't for lack of trying." She let out a nervous laugh as she leaned back against my bare chest. I felt the tension in her shoulders relax.

"You refused my advances?" I pulled on the silk tie that held her robe closed, and it fell open. I smiled. She wasn't refusing me now.

"It's complicated." I ran my hand over her bare stomach, delighting in how much of her skin that simple tug had revealed. Her breath caught in her chest, but her back arched into my touch. I wanted more, so with my other hand I gently eased the fabric from her shoulders. Her arms relaxed, helping me slip off the unnecessary garment.

"But you have had my blood." I traced my fingers back up her now bare arm as I leaned down to place another soft kiss on her shoulder.

"Yeah. Big part of the complications." Our eyes met in the mirror again, and when I pulled her back against me, I could feel her heart pounding.

"I want you," I said, emphasizing my point by more boldly running my hand across her waist, up until my fingers barely brushed the underside of her breasts. She just watched the movement with wide eyes.

"I feel that you want me." I turned her so that she was facing me and looked deeply into her eyes.

"What could be more simple?" And then I kissed her. Her lips tasted better than I'd anticipated, and I let out a hungry noise. Though I had no memory of it, I felt that we'd done this before. My hands wound into her hair, holding her to me. Not that she was resisting—her own hands were gripping my shoulders, her fingers pressing into me until I felt the half-moon marks left by her nails.

"Not here—bedroom," she gasped between kisses, and I picked her up and returned us to her room.

"Lover, lay down," I whispered, and I watched as she sat down and eased her way up to the center of the bed.

"Beautiful," I said, taking a moment to take all of her in, to fully absorb her, to remember this moment forever. I wanted to make it a part of me, so no one would ever be able to tear it from me. I may have lost all of my memories, but this one no one could ever take.

She let out a sigh—of resignation or of desire, it was hard to tell which—and then smiled. Reaching for my hand, she commanded, "Come here," and pulled me on top of her.

"Kiss me," she said, and I was completely willing to oblige. The question was where to start, but she guided me back to her mouth and all I could do was follow.

Lips, tongues, teeth … I didn't even realize my fangs had come out until I felt Sookie's tongue deliberately graze one as she explored my mouth. As we kissed, my fingers traced the lines of her, along her jaw, down her neck, across her collarbone, over her breasts. When she needed breath, I let my mouth follow my fingers.

"Eric..." she whispered my name, a name I hadn't known before she spoke it, but with the way it sounded falling off her lips, I wanted it to be mine. I wanted _her_to be mine. Her hands were everywhere, but finally found their way between us. She wrapped her hand around me and began to stroke.

I continued my exploration of her body, relishing the details. The concave valley between her breasts, each pert nipple, the soft skin covering her abdomen, the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs. When I first skimmed between her legs, she cried out, moving against me, seeking more friction. Her mouth had found my ear, and she ran her tongue along the shell of it before taking the lobe between her teeth. As she bit, I slipped a finger inside her. Pinning her legs by tangling them in mine, I slowly teased her, readying her for me.

Rolling on top of her, I positioned myself between her legs. She was so hot and so wet and I ached to be insider her. As she looked into my eyes, I saw my own passion reflected. Her hips lifted off the bed. That was all the permission I needed, and I pushed into her.

I knew this was where I was meant to be. But Sookie cried out, and even after a moment to let her adjust, her expression told me this was too much too soon despite how ready she had felt. Since I wanted her to enjoy this as much as me I slowly withdrew. She tried to pull me back, a look of concern on her face, I kissed away her worries, then continued down her body. As I slid down the bed, I looked up, pleased to find she was watching without me even having to ask.

My name was falling off her lips again, asking for what I was more than happy to give her. I spread her legs wider and settled between them, enjoying her taste, the thump of her pulse in the artery at my ear, the little noises of pleasure she made. She thrashed around on the bed, so I laid my other hand on her stomach, delighting in how she responded to different pressures and rhythms. My fingers once again joined my tongue, working together to bring her ever closer to the edge. When she tumbled over I didn't even let her ride out the aftershocks before entering her, and this time she was more than ready. I planned to make it last. To feel each thrust, to remember each time she rocked her hips to meet mine. To savor the salty taste of her sweat as I kissed her neck, the feeling of her soft breasts pressed against my chest.

But then she was coming again and I couldn't hold back any longer, crying out words of pleasure in the old tongue before I collapsed on top of her.

It was several moments before I had the will to move off her. I laid my head on her chest, listening to her heart and breath. She was so … alive.

"That was not what I expected," she said shyly as she stroked my hair.

I looked up at her with a teasing smile. "You didn't think I'd be a good lover?" She laughed. "Was I not a good lover?"

"No—I mean yes." She blushed. I loved the color. And that I could evoke it with just a few words.

"You seemed to enjoy yourself."

"Oh, believe me, I did. In fact, I'm having trouble remembering why I resisted you so many times before. I just ... I always knew you wanted me. It just seemed like you wanted to take something from me. But you were so ... generous."

"Are you ready for more? I have so much more to give," I said with a smile, then reached for her hand and guided it to me, showing her just how ready I was to give her more. Her hand gripped me, clearly up for the challenge.

"This time I want to be on top," she said, rolling to straddle me. Her breasts hung dangerously close to my mouth, and I flicked her nipple with my tongue.

"Yes," I said, more than happy to let her take control. I braced my hands on her hips, letting her move at her own pace, but she guided one up to her breast, encouraging me to pull and pinch at her nipples. It was slower this time, less frenzied, a different kind of sensual passion. And it was even more intense.

When we were both sated again, Sookie collapsed on top of me and I rolled her to my side, but didn't let her move away from me. She belonged right up against me. Her arm lay across my chest as she nuzzled into me.

After we'd basked in contented silence for a time, she lifted her head and said, "You didn't bite me."

I hesitated, unsure of the response she was looking for. The truth seemed best. "You didn't offer. I didn't want to presume."

"But we had sex." I turned on my side to face her, throwing my leg over hers, pulling her close.

"Yes. We did." I kissed her hard. "Spectacular sex."

"I just thought, vampires … when they did that, they always bit."

"No. Maybe some are like that. Not all." Even though I couldn't remember any details, I felt sure this was not always the case. To drink during sex would be highly pleasurable and I thought most probably considered it ideal, but it was not an imperative. Had Sookie been with a vampire before? I hadn't thought of that. The idea disturbed me.

"So you do want to? Bite me?" Her voice was small. Hesitant. Almost embarrassed.

I let my fangs run out, leaned down and deliberately breathed in her scent. "Oh, yes. I think I would like that very much." She drew a sharp breath at that, but didn't lean away from me.

But then a foreign feeling shot up my spine, shaking me slightly.

"What was that?" Sookie asked, concern coloring her voice.

A buzzing feeling." A strange sensation, something I thought I should recognize, but couldn't. "It tickles."

"Vampires are ticklish?" Sookie asked, a mischievous grin on her face. "What, like this?" She asked, running her fingers over the sensitive skin on my hips.

Though I didn't have to, I surrendered to her touch, letting the sensation wash over me. "This vampire is," I said, and captured her mouth in a kiss. She continued to tease me, lightly touching my skin, and I let myself squirm and laugh in response until our hands became more desperate, our tongues more insistent.

Until a stronger surge of energy shot through me, one not in response to Sookie. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"I don't know," I replied honestly, prompting her lips to fall into a frown. "It's something outside of me, outside of you."

But now there was only Sookie, only our bodies intertwined. Whatever had been invading my consciousness had left as easily as it had come, and I was free to focus on her again. Her skin. Her smile. Her. We kissed. Touched. We were nearly giddy, calm and euphoric all at once. Whatever lay outside us didn't matter; all I cared about was the warmth and softness of her skin against mine.

Until the buzzing sensation was back, stronger this time, breaking me out of my state of bliss and urging me to get up, to go somewhere, do something—but what? I didn't know. It was an itch I couldn't scratch, somewhere deep inside me. Was it a memory trying to break free? I didn't know that either, but I did know the urge to move was just too strong to lie in bed any longer.

I kissed Sookie's forehead and said, "I will return, lover." Standing up brought a feeling of rightness, a feeling that increased as I took a few steps, so I left the bedroom. The sense of purpose continued to grow as I descended the stairs to the main floor of the house. The strange force seemed to be urging me toward the front door, but just as I got there, I lost it. I cried out in protest. If this _was_a memory trying to surface, I needed to find it. If I had been attacked last night—and not injured myself somehow—then there was clearly some danger I needed to know about.

Hoping to recover the sensation, I retraced my steps to Sookie's bedroom. Nothing. I smiled at her lying there, still tangled in the sheets with her head resting on one bent arm, cheeks glowing a beautiful pink from the exertion of our pleasure.

But she wasn't smiling. I wanted to change that, and the desire to ignore the strange sensation and crawl back into her bed was strong. There were so many things I wanted us to try before sunrise, but...

"Eric? Is something wrong?"

"No, I just..."

I felt no trace of the strange impulse here so I returned to the main floor, pacing and prowling from room to room, trying to grasp that odd feeling again. I was sure it could tell me something, if only I could find it.

"Eric, what's wrong?" Sookie had followed me into the kitchen, her face filled with concern.

"Nothing is wrong, lover," I said, gathering her into my arms. Regrettably, she was now wearing a long shirt with a fluffy kitten on the front. I would much rather feel her bare skin against mine and told her so, earning another exquisite blush. I momentarily forgot my mission and kissed her, long and hard.

When I released her, she asked "Why are you wandering around like this?"

"That buzzing feeling, it makes me want to go somewhere or do something as quickly as possible."

"Go where? Why?"

I sighed in frustration. "I don't know. But moving around seemed to help. Then just as I was about to find it, it stopped."

"That's weird," she said. "What did it feel like?"

"The same as before. At first it was just a tickle, but then it got stronger and stronger until I couldn't lie still anymore. It felt like … it felt like..."

"It felt like?" she prompted me.

"This may sound strange," I warned her.

"Go on," was all she said.

"It felt like my blood was outside my body, and calling to me."

"Outside your body? You mean, like in me?"

"No, it wasn't you." My blood in her felt entirely different. It felt good. Right. Almost as if I were … alive. This was an entirely different call, something else. "Wait—is there someone else who has had my blood?"

"You healed my friend Lafayette. Maybe others, I don't know. Pam might. Oh. And of course Pam had a lot of your blood. And Mila. But that was a long time ago."

"Who is this Pam, and Mila?"

"They're your, I guess the word is progeny. Vampires you made. Oh shoot! We've got to call Pam! I left her a message last night while you were in the shower."

She broke out of my arms and ran to the phone, where a light was flashing. She pressed something and a strong voice, a woman's voice, floated in the air. The voice sounded annoyed.

"Sookie. What do you mean, you've found something? Are you and Bill playing some kind of game? I have no patience for strange messages. If Eric is there tell him I'm on my way."

Suddenly that buzzing sensation was back, stronger than before, rippling up and down my spine in powerful waves and pulling. I reached the front door in two quick steps, hoping this time I'd be able to capture the source. But as I was about to open the door, Sookie cried out.

"Eric! You can't go outside like that!" And the feeling was gone again. I howled in frustration and pulled the door open, only to find a female vampire on the other side.

I was on the defensive instantly, fangs bared and ready to attack. I shouted, "Sookie, stay back!" but that only served to bring her running. Snaring her in mid-step, I shoved her behind me and pulled us both away from the door. I knew the female could not enter without an invitation.

"Who are you?" I snarled. "And what do you want with Sookie?" If she meant any harm, I would rip her throat right there on the porch.

"Eric stop!" Sookie was struggling to get out of my grasp, but I held on firmly. "Eric! That's Pam—can't you feel her?"

"I do not know this vampire," I growled. "Perhaps she means you harm."

"Eric!" the woman at the door cried. "What has she done to you?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Pam," Sookie snapped. "How could I possibly hurt Eric?"

"Who knows what you're capable of?" the vampire snarled back. "Maybe you zapped him with your freaky fairy fingers."

"So...what—you think I fried his SIM card?" Sookie retorted.

"If you're responsible for this I will tear you apart!" Pam's fangs were out now and she clearly meant what she'd said.

"Pam!" I said sharply. "Sookie says I am your Maker. I forbid you to harm her. She has been nothing but kind to me."

She stood down at once, bowing her head.

Behind me Sookie heaved a sigh of relief. "Okay Pam, you can come on in."

This "Pam" rushed to my side and looked into my eyes with concern. "You really don't remember me? After a hundred years together?"

I stared back, unmoved. She had threatened my lover and would have to prove herself before I would trust her. She looked at Sookie in dismay.

"Don't take it personal Pam—he doesn't remember anyone," Sookie said in a resigned tone. "And what did you mean, freaky fairy fingers?"

"Eric never told you?" Pam asked. "I guess you'll have to wait till he gets his memory back. How did this happen?"

"I don't know," Sookie said. "I found him like this last night."

"Like this?" Pam gestured at me, and Sookie blushed.

"Well, not exactly like that. He had pants on."

"Just pants?"

"And shoes. And a whole lot of blood." Sookie embarrassment eased as she focused on explaining how I'd been.

"Blood? Was he injured?" Pam was concerned.

"Not when I got there. But it looked like he might've had a nasty wound in his side. There's blood all down one side of the pants. I'm pretty sure they're ruined."

"Bring them to me," Pam ordered, and Sookie left to go upstairs. Pam turned to me, asking "What's the last thing you remember?"

She'd obeyed my command, so I knew she was my child, but I still felt wary of this other vampire. She'd threatened Sookie, and I didn't like that. But Sookie thought it was safe for her to be here, and absent my own memories, I had to trust her judgment. So I answered her question.

"I was flying. The sky was so beautiful, but then I realized I didn't know where I was, so I landed on a road. There were no road markers so I ran a little, looking for a sign or a name or something to show me which direction to go. And then she found me, and took me in. And cared for me."

Sookie returned with the pants I'd had on, which were now stiff with dried blood. Pam sniffed delicately at them in several places. "This is your blood," she reported. "You were definitely injured. By another vampire. Who?"

I spread my hands, feeling helpless. "I don't know. Do I have enemies?"

"Several, but we'd know if any of them were in Louisiana. Your have excellent spies," Pam said with pride.

"You don't. .." Sookie began hesitantly. "You don't … think it was Bill, do you?"

"Bill isn't that stupid," Pam said. "And I would know his scent. It's not Bill." Sookie seemed relieved at this. I wondered why.

"Who is Bill?" I asked her. She shifted and looked away.

"He reports to you," she said. I could tell she was dissembling. Pam looked on with open amusement. Clearly there was a story here.

"There is more you're not telling me—I can feel it. Who is this Bill to you?" I felt a sudden fierce possessiveness. "Are you his?" If she _was_his, I'd have to kill him. There was no way I'd let another vampire claim her.

"No!" was her too-quick response. So she had been his at one time, but was no more. He was lucky, then. I would not have to end him.

"Are you the human of another vampire?"

"No."

"Then you are mine," I said firmly.

"No!" she protested.

"Don't you want to be mine?"

"Eric ... we'll talk about it later, okay?"

"I hate to interrupt your negotiations," Pam broke in, "But we have more important things to talk about," Both Sookie and I looked at her.

"Like what?" we said simultaneously.

"Well, for starters does Eric have anything to wear?" Sookie turned delightfully red and squirmed uncomfortably.

"Oh! I, um, I bought him a few things at Walmart. I'll go get them."

"Walmart? Don't bother." Pam asked in a chilly voice, and gave a slight shudder. Sookie looked hurt, and I reached to hold her.

"Thank you, lover," I said gently. "That was kind of you."

"Lover?" Pam's eyes lit up. She stepped closer and lightly traced the kitten on Sookie's garment with one finger, then turned to me. "Got some pussy tonight, did we? Lucky you."

"Pam!" Sookie was offended. Pam just laughed.

"It's about time," she teased Sookie. "You've been driving him crazy for weeks." Turning to me, she added, "And if I have to lose a bet, at least you don't remember the terms. Maybe there is some good in this after all."

"Enough," I warned her. Suddenly my spine starting tingling and that now-familiar buzzing raced up my back and into my brain.

"It's happening again," I told Sookie.

"So you _can_feel me," Pam said. "Why didn't you call?"

I whirled to grab her by the arms and shake her. "What are you doing to me? Stop it!" The sensation ceased at once.

"Eric, stop!" she cried out. "I'm calling you, child to Maker. It's a signal, to let you know I need you. That's all, I swear." I let her go and backed off.

"Kindly do not do that again. It is most unsettling," I said stiffly. Pam stared at me in amazement.

"He really doesn't remember anything," she said to Sookie, incredulously. "There's no way he can stay here. It isn't safe."

"I'm not leaving Sookie," I said, trying not to sound apprehensive.

"You're lucky you survived the day here," Pam retorted. "Plenty of people know your connection to her. Bill, the queen, everyone in Dallas—you could be traced here easily, and there's no security."

"But no one can come in here that I haven't invited," Sookie said. "He's got a safe place to rest for the day. Everything was fine, really. I don't mind if he stays until we sort this out."

"They don't need to be invited in to burn the place down," Pam pointed out. "Or to pay someone else to get in. You can stay with him at his place."

"I can't just up and leave my house for who knows how long," Sookie protested, looking around anxiously. "I have responsibilities here."

"You weren't so busy tonight," Pam argued. "And there's a good chance that being in his own home around his own things might help bring his memory back."

I looked at Sookie, who was biting her lip and glancing back and forth from me to Pam. She looked worried. Undecided. I reached for her hand and she squeezed my fingers back.

"His enemies are your enemies as long as you're with him," Pam stated flatly. "They are powerful. You are not."

There was much I needed to learn, if I was to protect Sookie. This must be a part of the complications she spoke of when she explained why we she had always denied me. Being with me would bring danger into her life.

"He's got a great big shower," Pam added. It wouldn't have been the incentive I'd use to entice Sookie into my home, but then I remembered none of its selling points.

"I guess you're right about the fire. I wouldn't be able to move him by myself, but no one lives close enough to help. And I don't want to lose my home." Sookie's brow wrinkled appealingly as she thought out loud.

"Alright," she sighed after a moment. "I don't have to work for the next two days. After that, we'll have to see."

I squeezed Sookie's hand again, relieved that she had agreed. I didn't want to leave her. Could seeing my own home really bring my memories back? And if it did, if I became the man I had been, would I still want her? Of course I would; she'd said I'd been pursuing her, and she was beautiful and kind. Impossible not to desire. Would she still want me? That didn't seem nearly as certain.

My instincts said Pam was right about moving to a safer location but losing Sookie was a risk I didn't want to face.

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><p><strong>Up next: <strong>Bill's long awaited visitor arrives, strange rituals are revealed, Pam blows a little smoke and Jessica is mistaken for a lady.


	8. Chapter 8: Lords of the Night

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone for reading (and reviewing)! Also thanks to Charlaine Harris and Alan Ball. We love playing with their creations. And on the publication of this chapter, I (as in Mo) would like to thank AmaZen for all she's contributed to this story and particularly to this chapter. I went to grad school for Latin American Studies (don't ask) and she managed to blow me away with her in-depth research for this original character. Hope you enjoy him as much as I have! **  
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><p><strong>Lords of the Night <strong>

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><p>After much delay due to the incompetence of certain Anubis employees, I finally arrived at my home. Though I'd been scheduled to arrive long before sunset, I had spent an hour in the back of their van after waking. If they are going to promise curbside service, the drivers should really invest in a quality GPS system.<p>

It was a relief to stretch when I was finally out of my travel coffin. As the house was empty when I arrived, I was able to shower and change in peace and get my travel coffin packed away.

Pleased that I had no plans for the evening after the eventful past night, I lit a fire in the living room and sat down to contemplate my trip to New Orleans. Fortunately the queen had been pleased with my progress on her vampire data bank, which was now up to nearly 100. It had been a welcome relief, since she'd been quite upset by my failure to procure Sookie. I suppose I could have left the state after that and joined a different kingdom under a new ruler. But I did not want to leave my ancestral home, nor could I bear to leave Sookie, even though she wouldn't speak to me.

Besides, Sophie Ann may be a bit eccentric, but she is far better than some alternatives. The sheriffs had all rolled their eyes at her lecture on her newest collection, but I had actually enjoyed learning the provenance of each cup. They came from Europe, Asia, South America and even Egypt, and ranged in age from a few centuries to a few millennia. For me, it was a fairly pleasant evening—with Eric Northman being the only fly in the buttermilk.

Eric had missed no opportunity to imply that he'd talked his way into Sookie's bed. I thought this was unlikely—she had made no secret of deeply she distrusted him, and that was before he had duped her into taking his blood. But I also knew that despite her mistrust she found him attractive. Now that she was lonely and vulnerable, he was pursuing her aggressively and made no secret of the fact. He was so unsubtle about it that I could not help but wonder why he felt the need to goad me.

Eric was a capable leader, a deft politician and a master strategist. He was confident, handsome, wealthy and could easily take any powerful position he wanted. I was no threat to him in any sense, and I often asked myself what made such an otherwise admirable man delight in belittling and bedeviling me as he did.

However, it was clear that _someone_ at the gathering had been a threat to Eric. Not long after he'd left the party I'd gone out to ask a question of the guards. Seeing none, I'd been about to go back inside when Eric had come crawling out of the bushes wounded and bleeding. He would not discuss what had happened, saying only that it had been personal. After reluctantly allowing me to bring him a donor, he'd left abruptly without a word of explanation.

Knowing that Eric preferred to avoid personal entanglements, I thought it more likely that the attack had been politically motivated. For Eric, the personal really was political. I was enumerating the other guests and pondering who might have reason to harm the sheriff of Area 5 when I heard a soft tapping at my front door.

Opening it, I was pleased to discover my Guatemalan friend.

"_Seeyacackah_, welcome! I trust your journey was a good one?" He chuckled at my attempt to say his true name.

"Better stick to Smoking Frog, my friend. _Siyaj K'ak' _does not roll easily off your tongue."

"Forgive me. Please come in," I said warmly, though strictly speaking he did not need an invitation to enter.

The arrival of my guest was a welcome distraction from worrying over the events of last night. To human eyes, Smoking Frog would appear to be a well-weathered 40 or so, with nut brown skin, blue-black hair and penetrating eyes like polished obsidian. A small man, perhaps 5'4", he was dressed in comfortable travelling clothes of faded light blue cotton, simple leather sandals and a straw hat.

"Thank you for the honor of your invitation," Smoking Frog said. He removed his worn straw hat and held it to his chest, revealing the startling shape of his head.

Smoking Frog had been born in a place and time when high-born mothers bound their babies' heads to give them a narrow, elongated shape that was prized as a symbol of high status. His forehead swept sharply backward above his eyebrows, making his nose appear twice its actual size. The top of his skull narrowed to longish cylinder with a diameter of five or six inches, and his hair was lopped off in odd chunks of apparently random lengths, short in front and longer at the back of his head. Without his hat, Smoking Frog was an arresting sight for modern eyes.

I'd met him during my visit to the iconic pyramids of Tikal, where he worked as a tour guide. Our shared interest in history had sparked a friendship and he'd been happy to show me other treasures buried deep within the jungle, sites that were not normally open to tourists. Of all the vampires I'd come across during my recent travels, he was the most interesting and I'd wanted to learn more about him.

I had explained my research project to him while he guided me through the ruins, and he'd agreed that preserving vampire history was a worthy goal. There was no time to do a proper interview then, as my visit to Tikal was short and he was soon to be leaving on an extended trip of his own. But when I learned his travels would take him to the northern Yucatan, I'd invited him to venture further and visit my home to do the interview.

At first, he'd looked reluctant and I thought he would decline, but then he pulled a mirror-bright disk of black stone from one pocket. He pricked his finger, spreading a little blood on the stone. After peering closely at it for several moments, he gravely said, "I will come."

"Thank you for agreeing to share your story," I'd said.

"We are all of one kind, yet know so little of each other. There is much to learn. Sacred soul work to be done," had been his odd reply.

After providing him some contacts that would shelter and assist him on his journey north, I'd bade him a reluctant farewell and continued on my travels. And now he was here.

Smoking Frog carried a large, bulging canvas bag, so I showed him where to store his things in the extra bedroom downstairs and how the false bottom of the staircase opened into the crawl space and a spare light-tight space I'd built.

After the brief tour, I stopped in the kitchen and offered my guest a Tru Blood. "You must be hungry after your travels." I uncapped the first bottle and placed it to warm in the microwave.

"No, thank you. I fed earlier. And I do not drink the bottled blood."

"Because of the taste?"

"No." His expression was sober. "It feeds the body, but the spirit goes hungry."

I kept the warmed bottle for myself, but had to ask what he meant by that. I'd heard complaints about Tru Blood's unpleasant taste, but spiritual objections were new to me.

"The spirit?"

Smoking Frog waved his hand dismissively at my bottle. "It has no _itz_, no sacred energy to replenish the spirit."

An interesting idea. It reminded me how, when I had first met Sookie, I had told her that it was a kind of magic that sustains us all, human and vampire alike. I wondered if that was what he meant by _itz _and was about to ask him to elaborate when he changed the subject.

"How does your work on collecting our histories go?" he asked.

"My queen is pleased with the progress I have made," I explained. "That reminds me. Now that you're here we'll need to check you in with our local sheriff. He keeps a close eye on his territory." I motioned him toward the sitting room where the fire now crackled merrily.

"You look displeased. He is difficult, this sheriff?"

"Oh, no. He is fair, a good leader. We have, ah, more personal issues."

"A woman then."

I didn't answer, but gave Smoking Frog a quick glance. In addition to being cryptic, my friend was disconcertingly insightful at times.

"Let me call and make an appointment. Just an introduction. A formality really."

I took out my phone and dialed Fangtasia's number. I was not looking forward to hearing more of Eric's gloating about his evening with Sookie, but the call had to be made. Pam's bored greeting picked up after several rings.

"Fangtasia, where all your bloody dreams come true."

"Pam."

"Bill," she cooed. "Lovely to hear from you too. How are things in Bon Temps?"

"Is Eric there?"

"No … no I can't say that he is," she said evasively. "Can I help you or do you want a raincheck?"

"Well, did he make it back to Fangtasia last night?" I asked.

"Why wouldn't he?"

I didn't want to discuss the details of Eric's strange behavior in front of my guest. "Never mind. I am sure he will tell you when you see him. I need to see Eric. When will he be back?"

"Now how would I know that? And if I did, what makes you think I would tell _you_?"

"Eric is still sheriff of Area 5, is he not?" I asked testily. I had no patience for Pamela's games. "I have a visitor who needs to check in with him."

"Well, let me check his schedule." There was a brief pause. "The next call for check-in is January second," she said. Now why did Pam sound anxious all of a sudden?

"In other words, tomorrow," I said.

"If you need to check, we have calendars on sale in the gift shop," she said sarcastically.

After she hung up, I couldn't help staring at the phone for a moment. There was definitely something strange going on there. Whatever it was, I found myself hoping they would not require my attendance this evening.

"Well, it appears we need not check you in until tomorrow," I said to my guest. "Please, make yourself at home."

"Do you have plans for tonight, my friend?" Smoking Frog asked. His voice was soft and husky, and his 's' sounds were ever so slightly slurred, giving his words a somewhat hypnotic effect.

"No, I have been keeping my schedule free, for you," I replied, smiling. I truly had looked forward to seeing my new friend again. During our time in Guatemala, he'd spoken freely of the region's colorful history but said little about his own life, even in passing.

"Will you hear my story tonight then? I have much to tell you."

"I'd be delighted. May I record it, for my archive?"

"As you wish," he said graciously. We moved into the parlour and sat down. After activating my digital recorder I sat back, prepared to hear some living history.

"My true name is _Siyaj K'ak',_ which means 'Fire is Born' in your language. Your historians named me Smoking Frog. I was born in the great city of _Yax Mutal, _which is now known as Tikal."

"In Guatemala, where we met," I recalled.

"Yes." He continued. " I was born 8 _baktunob_, 15 _katunob_, 16 _tunob_, 10 _uinalob_ and 17 _kinob_ from the beginning of this Creation, on 2 _Kaban_ 0 _Mol_ when the ninth lord of the night was ascendant, and 6 days after the moon died."

"What is that in English?" I asked.

"September 29, in the year 353 after your Christ," he replied promptly. This didn't surprise me, for I knew that the detail and accuracy of the Mayan calendar meant that their written history was easily correlated with our system of dates.

"Our king was _Toh Chak Ich'ak_, Great Jaguar Claw, the ninth successor of _Yax-Moch-Xoc_.

"In those days, I felt spirit in every rock, in every star, in every tree and every _t'zonot_. As a young boy, I heard the lightning in my blood, and I was trained as a way-maker—what you would call a shaman." His hands gestured eloquently as he spoke, and I could see his deep reverence for everything in his cosmos.

"Like all the noble men of my time, I was also a warrior, and went to war every spring, when the planting was done."

"Every year, but only in the spring?" I asked. "That is a strange way to make war."

"In those days, war was not for killing but for claiming honor and for taking high-ranking captives to sacrifice. Most often we fought the men of _Uaxactun_. They fought well. Year upon year, many of our strongest men and nobles went to the gods of _Uaxactun_."

I recalled with sadness the many friends I had lost battle. "That must have been a great loss for your people."

"It was."

"Were you able to recover any of them?" He'd said they were captured, not killed.

"We did not." I noticed he said 'did not' rather than 'could not', as if he found the idea unthinkable.

"Would your enemy not consent to an exchange of prisoners? Or allow you to pay for their release?" Surely they must have had some mechanism for dealing honorably with prisoners of war.

"We did not sell our captives like the knights of Europe," he said scornfully. "We gave them in sacrifice to nourish and glorify our gods. I took more captives than any other noble of _Yax Mutal_, and gave our gods many lives." He said this with great satisfaction, a fierce pride glowing in his face. Suddenly I saw the strength in him and could easily envision this little warrior seizing his enemies by their long hair and binding their arms behind them, as I'd seen done in so many carvings at ancient Maya sites.

"But _Uaxactun_ grew stronger," he went on. "_Toh Chak Ich'ak_ sought a way to repel them and in my twenty second year, he sent me very far north to the powerful kingdom of _Tollan_ to learn the ways of their war god, _Tlaloc_." He sat up straighter as he began the tale of his journey, his pride evident in the deep rumble and rich cadence of his voice. "They were not a people of the Maya—today you call them _Azteca_, and their city is called Teotihuacan."

"Yes. A most interesting site near Mexico City," I recalled. "I spent a night or two there as well, but found no guides as expert as yourself." Smoking Frog had a gift for storytelling which made him a wonderful tour guide, leading groups through the ruins of Tikal and enthralling them with tales of that city's bygone greatness.

"The Street of the Dead, they call it there," he said sardonically. "It _is_ dead now. In my time, it was a great city, alive with people, with many vibrant markets, and powerful ceremonies of smoke and sacrifice. There were flocks of traders and canoes, and vast floating gardens to feed its ravenous multitudes. _Tollan_ was a very big city, perhaps 250,000 in one place."

As he spoke, I could see the ancient glory of _Tollan_ as it must have been, fragrant and bustling with life and color.

"The king of _Tollan_ was feared," he continued. "When his people made war, they left many, many dead in the field, and took captives—many, many captives—to bleed for _Tlaloc_ on their great pyramids. Twenty thousand in one day, I was told. This was not war as we Maya understood it. That is what I was sent there to learn." He fell silent, his obsidian eyes glittering as he gazed into the fire.

After a time, I spoke. "And what did you learn, my friend?" Smoking Frog shook himself, and continued.

"When _Tollan_ fought an enemy, their most powerful warriors were priests and shamans, and some of them came to _Tollan _ from very far south, farther even than my home. You have heard of the Moche?" He began rummaging in his duffel bag.

"Yes. Peruvian, weren't they? Before the Inca?" During my travels I had seen an exhibition of finely sculpted Moche ceramics, which were beautifully executed—and notorious for their extremely frank, not to say graphic, depiction of the full range of human sex acts. It is hard to see how a culture with that much interest in sex could have failed to flourish, but they had vanished around 800 AD like many of the Maya.

From his bag, Smoking Frog brought forth a large leather pouch. Opening the pouch, he drew out a handful of translucent yellow crumbs and chunks. "May I?" he asked, gesturing to the fireplace.

"Please." In one quick motion he flung the substance into the fire, and the room soon filled with a smoke that was thick and sweet smelling, with a wild, piney tang.

"Holy copal," he said. "To honor the gods of whom I speak." Reaching into his bag again, he took out the wing of some large brown bird. Rising from his seat, he used the wing to gather some smoke, swirling it around my head like an ephemeral turban and muttering a few words I didn't understand.

"For your peace," he said, with a slight smile.

"Thank you," I replied gravely, though I had no idea what he meant. He looked at me intently for another moment, then returned to his seat.

"Yes," he continued. "These Moche were from Peru. They were a terrible people. The Maya and the _Azteca,_ we offered the blood of our captives, and our own blood, to nourish the gods. It was a great honor to let blood or to die bravely for this purpose. But these Moche, they had dark rituals. There was much singing and dancing and praying. They would drag their captives to their altar, and beat them and cut them in many places to make their blood flow freely. And then the priests would cut open their throats. As each sacrifice poured forth his blood, the priest would capture it in a sacred vessel. And then the warriors drank it, passing the cup from one to another. It seemed to make them very strong and fast and some of them said they could fly."

I paused to consider that. "And these warriors, they were human?" I asked.

"Most of them were, yes," replied my guest. "Some were vampire, but I did not know that until much later." A mischievous grin played at the corners of his mouth.

"It was in my third summer in _Tollan_ that Great Jaguar Claw summoned me back to _Yax Mutal_ to fight against _Uaxactun_. The Moche were hated in _Tollan,_ so I invited them to follow me on the long journey back to my home."

"When I arrived in _Yax Mutal_, my beautiful city was not as it should have been. The markets were empty. The fields were dying. Our beautiful temples were crumbling. The people were dirty and hungry and their despair was everywhere." His anger was plain in the grim set of his jaw.

"At the palace, I found our king with his women. He was drunk and had grown very fat," he growled in disgust. "It was plain that he had not let his blood in sacrifice for many weeks."

My friend's voice was pained, and shame played over his face as he spoke. I could see that he still felt deeply the dishonor that Great Jaguar Claw's dereliction had brought upon himself and his subjects.

"When I saw him that way, I was surprised that conditions were not worse. It is no wonder that people go hungry when the king does not speak with the ancestors!" He spat into the fire in disgust, his black eyes blazing. "A drunken soul is a portal for evil to enter and infect the community. That is why the Maya do not glut themselves with drink, even today."

Having seen how the maenad Maryann was attracted and fed by drunken excess, I could not argue with that philosophy.

"What did you do?" I asked.

"I seized the king and bound him for sacrifice," he said fiercely. "My warriors seized his guards and bound them also, along with the nobles and lazy priests that allowed this shameful negligence. I proclaimed myself _Ahau_, king. The next day I gathered the people of _Yax Mutal _together in the plaza of our greatest temple. Standing before them, I offered the gods great clouds of holy copal. I let blood as a king must, and called forth our gods and ancestors through the great vision serpent. Then I sacrificed our captives to replenish the gods and atone for neglecting them."

So the friend now sitting before me in the faded blue cotton shirt and pants of a peasant farmer, had once been a king. Not a king by right of birth nor a power-hungry warrior king, but a deeply principled man who had come upon a great wrong and taken personal responsibility for righting it.

Smoking Frog explained how he'd repaired the crumbling temples, restored the religious and ritual life of his city and returned prosperity to its people. With his Moche warriors and the tactics learned in _Tollan_, he conquered the enemy city of _Uaxactun _and cowed his other adversaries.

"It was not difficult—they did not expect our way of fighting," he said, adding dryly, "You could say we showed them shock and awe."

Rival cities soon found they preferred to attack easier targets, and the people of _Yax Mutal_ entered a 20-year era of relative peace and abundance.

But with few battles to fight, the Moche warriors grew restless. They began raiding the satellite villages of _Yax Mutal, _weakening Smoking Frog's kingdom and stirring up discord.

"They would not be controlled," he said. "They were fewer than 20, but so fearsome that my other warriors would not fight them." So Smoking Frog the shaman-king had chosen another approach.

"I planned to send an affliction on them to sap their strength so my other warriors could restrain them," he said, dark eyes glittering in the firelight.

"An affliction?" I asked. "You mean you planned to poison them?"

"No." He waved the idea away impatiently. "My plan was weaken them all by binding their power. But I needed one of their sacred vessels to do it."

And so, when the Moche raiders next returned to _Yax Mutal_ with captives to sacrifice, Smoking Frog captured one of their ritual cups and spirited it away. The next day, he'd cast his affliction on it, then put it aside until an opportunity might arise to return it discreetly. He planned to wait until he was sure it had been used, and steal it back.

That seemed awfully risky to me, and I said so.

"Oh, very. But not doing so would have been much riskier. I wanted to destroy it so their affliction could not be undone," he explained as if that was obvious, as if he was explaining it to a child. Then again, to him I probably seemed a child.

"I don't understand. Riskier how?"

He smiled indulgently. "Ritual magic flows in circles." His knobby hands drew a graceful arc. "If they had used the vessel a second time, their strength would have returned and the affliction would have attached itself to me instead." He struck his breast with an audible thud. "And if the vessel was then destroyed, I would not have been able to restore myself."

I looked at him dubiously. "Did your plan work?"

"It would have," he said, with absolute confidence. He paused for a long moment, then added darkly, "But my human life ended the night I discovered that one of the Moche was vampire."

"Only one?" I asked. Their unusual power and frequent drinking of blood had led me to believe that all of the Moche must have been vampire.

"Only one," he confirmed. "Their blood rituals were true parts of the Moche culture." His black eyes twinkled as he grinned. "What better place for a vampire to hide in plain sight?" We laughed for a moment at the excellent convenience of that, then he continued his story.

"_Yax Mutal_ was powerful and received many delegations from other cities—for trade or to seek a marriage alliance. Most brought tribute of fine white cotton cloth, sacks of cacao beans, blocks of obsidian or precious blue-green jade. Others paid in spotted jaguar pelts, long quetzal feathers and bright red spiny oyster shells."

Smoking Frog had a rhythmic way of speaking that drew listeners into his stories, and his clear descriptions created a strikingly vivid picture of what life must have been like in his time. I could picture the bustling marketplace alive with people as if I had been there myself.

"On the last day of my human life, a delegation arrived from _Oxwitza', _the city whose remains are called Caracol. They brought rich tribute and an offer of marriage to their king's youngest daughter." A faraway look crept over his face as he recalled his last day.

"I gave them a block of the best green obsidian, and we feasted while my musicians played their trumpets, conches and drums," he recalled. "That evening, we hunted tapir."

"What is a tapir?"

Smoking Frog rose from his chair and began acting out the story for me, as if telling the tale to others gathered around an ancient campfire.

"They are like large, very shy live deep in the forest, and come out only at night," he said, indicating an animal about the size of a small donkey. "They are very hard to catch. But if you _can_ catch one my friend—aah, then you will eat well!" He rubbed his belly, and we both chuckled.

"Together with my Moche and my best hunters, we entered the jungle just before dusk. We traveled to a stream well hidden in the trees, following the tapir's spoor. We spread salt on the ground for bait—tapirs will walk many miles for salt—and hid ourselves to wait for them."

He mimed strewing handfuls of salt around the room, then crouched as if hiding among tall leafy ferns.

"The tropical forest is full of sound in the daytime—the screeching of parrots and toucans, the barking of howler monkeys, and the grunting of coatimundi. But as night came upon us, those sounds faded away, leaving only the chirping of cicadas and frogs, and the rustling of small animals in the undergrowth.

"After some time, I left the group to make water and while I was there, a jaguar took me." He said he'd had no warning of the powerful blow that knocked him flat, but ferocious growling and bitter pain had accompanied the predator's scramble for a grip on his arms and chest.

Smoking Frog rolled around on the floor as he mimed knifing the animal several times and mimicked their hideous screams of pain. Despite his stabs the great cat would not let him go and he'd writhed in agony as its jaws searched relentlessly for a death grip on his throat.

A couple of the Moche had found him then, beating at the jaguar with their spears and clubs but to no avail. The injured cat snarled angrily but clung to its prey. By then Smoking Frog was weak and bleeding heavily where bloody flaps had been torn away from his face and neck. He struggled on but he was a small man and the creature overpowered him.

"I felt his teeth grating on the bones in my neck, and I knew then that I was about to die," he whispered. But before the cat could finish him, one of the Moche warriors finally drove a spear through the animal's chest, killing it.

"They tossed it aside and knelt beside me," he recalled. "I will never forget that moment. I had bled so much that even in the heat of the forest, I was cold and shivering. Even the touch of my Moche felt cold."

"Lord of _Yax Mutal," _one of them said, "you will die, very soon. Will you go to _Xibalba_, or will you defeat the Lords of Death and remain in this world?" Smoking Frog, knowing that death was very near, had not understood.

The other Moche said, "This jaguar, it is black. Our people believe the Gods of Darkness send a black jaguar to claim their chosen ones."

"Wh…what…does that…mean?" my friend had gasped, barely able to speak.

"You could be _camazotz_, vampire. Will you take this life?"

Smoking Frog had nodded. The Moche summoned another of their number, _Nepata-na-ro_, "In the High Trees", and the deed was quickly done. My friend and his Maker were buried in the earth to await his first rising, and the remainder of the hunting party was told that Smoking Frog had been killed and carried off by a jaguar.

"Of course I had to leave then. I joined the Moche as a warrior and they became my protectors for a time."

"Then I suppose it was for the best that you had no chance to send your affliction," I observed.

"Indeed," he said wryly, black eyes twinkling again.

Without warning, Jessica interrupted, bursting through the front door to exclaim, "Bill! Guess what? I got to work at Fangtasia again! I made as much money in a couple hours as I would in a week at Merlotte's! I could get my own place if I could work there!" I heard her kick off her shoes in the foyer before rounding the corner and stopping dead in her tracks.

"Oh! You have company," she said, her hand covering her mouth. Her eyes widened as she took in his unusual appearance.

"This is your lady?" Smoking Frog inquired.

"This is my child, Jessica," I corrected, before Jessica could make a rude protest. "She is not yet a year old. Jessica, this is Smoking Frog, the friend I met in Guatemala." I explained.

"How do you smoke a frog?" she blurted out. He laughed. I frowned.

"I thought you were with Hoyt," I said. I was unhappy to learn that she'd been at Fangtasia. Why hadn't Pam mentioned this when I called? That, coupled with her strange manner on the phone, led me to believe that something really was amiss. Whatever it was, Pam had no business dragging Jessica into it without my permission.

"No, I haven't seen Hoyt since last night. I don't want to be too clingy," she said. The rules of modern courtship were still something of a mystery to me, but I felt that Jessica could navigate the terrain of vampire-human relationships in her own way. I certainly had little solid advice to offer, considering how horribly wrong things had gone with Sookie.

"Fangtasia is not an appropriate environment for you," I advised her sternly. "Putting in your required time there is one thing, but your job at Merlotte's is a far better choice for a new vampire. And it is too soon for you to be on your own. " If I had believed Jessica would listen to me in front of a guest, and at least save her smart retort for a private discussion, I was wrong.

"Pam treats me like a vampire, not a child! That's why I like spending time there!" she said, then stomped off to her room before I could respond.

"She is obedient, most of the time," I said to Smoking Frog with a wry smile.

"Maker to a modern American woman? You have my sympathies."

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><p><strong>Up next:<strong> Pam gets a change of venue, Eric has performance anxiety, Sookie has some 'splainin' to do, and sweet 'n' spicy interludes ensue.

_Special note for history junkies: Smoking Frog is based on a real historical person of that name, and his story is similar to what is known of the real person's history. The Moche were a real Peruvian society whose warriors actually did drink the blood of their captives. And some Moche pottery really is __**very**__ sexually explicit. —AmaZen  
><em>


	9. Chapter 9: Ain't Got No Home

A/N: Thanks to Charlaine Harris for creating these characters and Alan Ball for introducing them to a wider audience. Without True Blood, this wonderful world of vampires and telepaths would have definitely never popped up on my radar! True Blood Season 4 may be over, but we've still got lots to go here, so hopefully our version will continue to entertain you. Sorry for the longer than average wait for an update—in addition to real life stealing valuable fanfic writing time, I've also been working on another fanfic story, Darkly Dreaming. If you've ever wished Dexter was a vampire or that True Blood to SVM what Dexter is to Jeff Lindsay's series, check it out under my individual account, moxiemo, or on my blog, moxiemosvmfanfic (dot) wordpress (dot) com. Just had to sneak in that little bit of self-promotion and explanation for delay :)Thanks to you all for reading, and thanks to AmaZen for making this so much more fun to write by working on it with me! ~ cheers, mo

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><p><strong>Ain't Got No Home<strong>

* * *

><p>"Well, I guess we better get dressed," I said. Eric was still completely naked and I had just thrown on an old sleepshirt without anything on underneath when I'd jumped up to follow him around the house. "And I'll pack an overnight bag."<p>

Pam smiled widely, and it kinda scary, even without the fangs. "Lovely. Make it snappy. I've got a few calls to make, but we need to get going soon. Jessica's covering for me at Fangtasia. Who knows what's happening."

Eric and I climbed the stairs to my room. I really wanted to take a shower, since I'd never gotten to take one earlier and felt much dirtier than before, but I figured that could wait. Pam had been pretty clear that time was of the essence and was stressed out enough with Eric's condition. In fact, I felt a little guilty for not being more concerned about his attack and subsequent memory loss when he'd woken up this evening, but couldn't bring myself to regret the time we'd spent in my bed. Judging by the spring in my step and the pleasant ache I hadn't felt for so long, I'd needed that.

I went to my closet for my overnight bag as Eric pulled one of his new black t-shirts over his head. Before I could get too engrossed in watching the show, I turned towards my dresser and started going through my underwear drawer. I selected a pair of sheer red panties—not my usual basic black bikinis—and stepped into them, pulling them up over my hips. Too embarrassed to stand completely naked in front of Eric again, though he'd certainly seen every inch of my body by now, I'd had to put something on before pulling my sleep shirt over my head. I turned to toss it in my laundry basket, catching a glimpse of Eric pulling his jeans up. Pam could say anything she wanted about Walmart clothes; even in the cheap pair of straight-leg blue jeans I'd bought for Eric, his butt looked just as good as it did in the designer ones he normally wore. The little "um" sound I made caught his attention, and he whirled around, dazzling me with that award-winning smile. He ran his hand through his hair, letting it rest on the back of his neck so his bent elbow extended above his head, showing off his biceps. He looked like a jungle gym, ready to be climbed.

"Are you trying to say you like my outfit?" Eric asked. "Yours is perfect," he added, his eyes raking over me. In my distraction, I'd forgotten I was wearing nothing but those red panties.

And before I knew what had happened, his hands were on my waist, his fingers teasing along the lace waistband of my red panties. His mouth was on mine, my breasts were pressed up against that black t-shirt and my hands were gripping his butt through his jeans. Though some part of the back of my mind remembered that I was supposed to be doing something, that we were all in grave danger of an unknown variety, it was not strong enough to overpower this pull toward Eric.

But the sound of Pam clearing her throat certainly was. Still clinging to Eric, because his body against mine sort of obscured the view of my otherwise naked self, I pulled away from his mouth. "Eric, Pam's waiting," I reminded him.

"She is my child. She is nothing to fear." Eric may have felt that way, but I certainly didn't. Pam could eviscerate me before Eric would be able to stop her. I didn't want to piss her off, or have her stand there and watch us make out. But he didn't even mind that I'd turned my lips away; his just found other skin. Pam voyeurism didn't bother him in the least. With my remaining dignity I managed to get him to look me in the eye so I knew he was listening.

"Eric—just hold on. You're not safe here. We have to go."

"And you're coming with me," he sought to confirm.

"Yes," I said. He moved to back away from me, but I held kept my arms around him. As he shot me a confused look and Pam glared daggers at me, I fought the urge to roll my eyes at both of them. "Just let me get dressed," I gritted through my teeth. I grabbed the first top and bottoms out of my drawers, which happened to be an old Bon Temps High sweatshirt and jeans. As I hastily pulled them on, Pam folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot.

"Eric, why don't you wait downstairs why I help Sookie pack?" she asked with a broad smile. Eric's hands grabbed right back onto my hips and his fangs shot out. If it had been a more personal context, without other spectators, I'd have found it sexy.

"It's okay, Eric. I'll be right down." He looked at me for a moment, his blue eyes boring into mine. Then he retracted his fangs, but kissed me on the mouth, tongue and all, before leaving. He gave Pam a significant look before exiting the room.

I turned toward my dresser and started tossing stuff in my bag. Pam followed me to the bathroom when I crossed the hall to grab my toothbrush and other assorted toiletries.

"I don't know what angle you're working here," Pam began. I dropped my moisturizer into my bag and turned to face her.

"I'm not working any angle."

"Don't get me wrong. I like you. It's even been entertaining, watching you wind Eric up. If Eric was going to get attached to someone, which I've never seen him do, well you were a choice I could approve. But this—" she paused dramatically, making a sweeping gesture— "this is no longer amusing."

"He just showed up like that. The rest … I don't know. I didn't plan it." She looked at me, long and hard. "There's no plan. We … care about each other. He was supposed to stop by … I didn't know it'd end up like this." Pam knew good and well that there was something going on between Eric and me long before last night. In fact, she had known before either of us. Now she was acting like it was a bad thing. As much as this memory-free Eric was a fun diversion, I still wanted the real Eric back as much as she did. We were on the same side.

Pam narrowed her eyes at me. "I don't like you seeing Eric this way, let alone knowing the location of his home. Especially since I can't glamour you afterward."

"Eric trusts me. He invited me there once before. And I'm not going to tell anyone. Believe me, I know how to keep a secret." I'd been keeping other people's secrets all my life.

Pam was fierce, and I certainly didn't want to be on her bad side. After considering what I'd said for a minute, she stood aside. "Don't forget to pack a roll of toilet paper," she added as she walked down the hall. "Eric's house isn't exactly set up for humans."

I finished packing without giving much thought to what I threw in my bag, but when I came across the pendant Eric had given me for Christmas, I tucked it inside on a whim. I slipped on my Nikes, then hurried downstairs to find Pam and Eric in some sort of standoff.

Ignoring their hostile impasse, I cheerfully bounded into the room. "So I'll follow you, Pam, since I don't know where Eric lives."

"Keep up. I'll fill in Eric on the drive over."

"No, I'm riding with Sookie."

"Have you seen her car?" Pam scoffed.

"There's nothing wrong with my car!" I immediately came to the defense of my yellow Rabbit. I'd bought it myself, with my own money, and was quite attached to it. Then again, remembering how Eric had had to fold his large frame into it made the complications apparent. It wasn't built for Viking vampires.

"I stay with Sookie. End of discussion." He grabbed my hand and gripped it tightly. All righty then.

We were on the highway, driving much faster than I was accustomed to, when Eric reached his arm around my shoulders and started rubbing his thumb against the tense muscles at the base of my neck. After just a few miles it became so relaxing that I was having trouble remembering that I was supposed to be driving.

"Hmmm … you're going to have to stop that," I said, reluctantly shrugging him off. He was undeterred, and his hand just swept aside my hair and turned its attention toward my shoulder.

"Why?" he asked, and increased the intensity of his movement. I stifled a moan. "Touching you makes me feel grounded." I turned to meet his eyes, and he had that lost look I'd seen when I'd first found him on the road.

I thought of all the times Eric had taken my hand in his, as if he'd known that was the only sort of comfort I'd accept. When I'd met the queen. When I'd gotten staked trying to save Bill. When I'd seen the depraved thoughts in Waldo's mind. Eric hadn't offered me flowery words or promised everything would be all right. He'd just held my hand. When I abandoned my death grip on the steering wheel and laced my fingers with his, he gave my hand a squeeze in return.

I managed to zip through the traffic quickly enough to keep up with Pam. She finally slowed down when we go to a middle class suburban neighborhood. We turned the corner onto Shady Grove Drive and pulled up to a house.

A very ordinary house. It had probably been built in the 50s, a modest brick ranch that was as innocuous as a preacher's house. I shot Eric a sideways glance and stifled a laugh. Pam must have had a remote for the two-car garage, because the door opened and she pulled in, but Eric's Corvette (one of them, anyway) was on the other side, so I left mine in the driveway.

The garage opened into a foyer with a mirror above an entrance way table that held a mail sorter overflowing with junk mail and magazines. There was even an umbrella propped up in the corner. I hadn't ever imagined Eric needing anything as prosaic as an umbrella. Besides, he'd look good in a wet t-shirt. But there it was. The was nothing to set this house apart from the home of any other bachelor in Shreveport. It could have been occupied by accountant, an engineer, an insurance agent. There was nothing to suggest that an important vampire was the occupant of this decidedly average house. Pam, who obviously knew her way around, set her purse and keys down and stalked into the living room, but Eric held back.

"C'mon, look around. See if anything jogs your memory." Pam's patience was clearly running thin. Eric stood in the middle of his living room, looking over the large leather sectional, the white rug in front of the fireplace, the simplistic, masculine decor. Eric's face was blank, without a hint of recollection as he contemplated the eclectic mix of art on the walls. There were portraits of people I didn't know—people Eric didn't seem to recognize either. Surprisingly, there was a dreamy scene of dancing ballerinas. I rather liked it but hadn't imagined Eric owning something like that. There were bold, colorful abstracts that didn't impress me at all. Looking around, Eric didn't seem particularly moved or inspired by any of them.

And then there was _Quaternity,_ the creepy painting on the far wall. When I'd been rescuing Bill, I'd spent two nights at the club on the top floor of the Red River Casino and Resort in Bossier City, and the owner, a vampire named Victor Madden, had given me a tour of his collection. That memory of my own private art lesson left a bad taste in my mouth, especially since seeing the painting here confirmed my suspicion that it was Eric who'd burned the casino to the ground.

Victor had explained in his charming, deadly way that the snake was the devil and the three flames in the attic represented the Holy Spirit, the Father, and the Son. What I retained most from his lecture hadn't been the Holocaust symbolism or the reference to Carl Jung, but the persistence of evil. I wondered if Eric took the painting out of spite or a love of art but if I asked him now, he wouldn't remember.

"Nothing?" Pam said, exasperated. Eric shook his head. "C'mon, try the office." We trailed down the hall to a spare bedroom that housed Eric's computer, some filing cabinets, and a box of Fangtasia merchandise. One wall held a shelf of antique books but Eric didn't seem particularly interested in them. Another wall held a large, elaborately framed map. It was obviously hundreds of years old and featured drawings of mermaids and dragons in the waters of the sea and grossly inaccurate renderings of the "new world." I would have loved to ask Eric about the books and how he'd come to have the map, but doubted much of a response.

Pam opened the closet, revealing an impressive cabinet that held an assortment of swords.

She pulled out a long one steel blade and held it out for him to observe. "Remember when we had to hunt down that crazy Japanese drunk who stole your precious sword while you were fucking his wife?" Pam smiled. That story wouldn't be one that I'd ask Eric to elaborate on, if and when he got his memories back. She handed him the sword delicately and with reverence, but as he took it in his hand, he just shrugged.

Pam was crestfallen. "You don't even remember what we did to get it back? You said you'd _never_ forget that."

Eric just shook his head and handed her the sword back. Pam scowled and returned it to its case.

"Nothing at all," Eric said. "I don't remember anything before Sookie," he said, then turned to face me. He brushed my hair back, then cupped my cheek with his hand. I patted his hand then took it in mine and pulled it down to my side as a blush crept over my face. Eric saying that kind of thing in front of Pam embarrassed me. She rolled her eyes at us, and I was determined to show her that I wasn't in some kind of lovesick stupor. We could work this out.

"Maybe if he went to Fangtasia? I bet he spends more time there than here," I offered.

"He'll have to, tomorrow night. And I've got to get there now. Sookie, fill him in as much as possible while I'm gone. I'll be back tonight after closing. We'll figure out how to get his memories back eventually, but he's got to work tomorrow night regardless."

"Okay, I'll do my best. But I don't really know that much about your secret vampire stuff." Which had always been a good thing in my book, but now some more knowledge about Eric's sheriff duties and personal history would have come in handy. I didn't even know where to start, and something told me Eric didn't keep a diary.

"You know enough. More than you should. I'll be back." Pam gave Eric one last look. He looked back without recognition and I could almost see a hint of sadness in her eyes but she left without saying anything else.

Eric and I just stood there speechless for a few minutes. I didn't really know what to say, but Gran always said a sincere compliment was a good way to get any conversation started.

"You have a really nice home," I said. Eric just shrugged his shoulders.

"Doesn't seem that special to me. This is just a house. I prefer yours. You can tell it has been lived in. It feels like a home."

"It has been, for generations of Stackhouses," I said. Then my stomach made a very loud rumbling sound. Dinner hadn't even occurred to me, but I realized I hadn't had anything to eat since lunch with Jason, which seemed forever ago.

"You're hungry," Eric said. "You need to eat."

Since Eric's house was completely devoid of human sustenance, I realized I could order pizza, a rare treat. There's a Pizza Hut in Bon Temps, but they don't deliver out to Hummingbird Lane.

"Pineapple and jalapeño?" Eric asked, quirking an eyebrow after I got off the phone with Johnny's Pizza House where the teenager on the phone had promised my pie would arrive in thirty minutes or less. It still kinda confused me how this former Viking could be familiar with fruits and vegetables yet have now idea who he was.

"Sweet and spicy," I explained. He pulled me back against his chest, trapping me in his strong arms.

"Like you," he leaned down and whispered in my ear.

A blush spread across my face like wildfire. Eric pulled back and gave me look of pure desire, and I could see the tips of his fangs peeking out. "I'm supposed to fill you in on … you." I moved to sit on one end of that long leather sofa with that painting behind me so I didn't have to look at it. Eric followed and took the opposite side, which was a relief because without Pam to there to chaperone us I had a feeling we'd end up right back on square one, and as fun as that might be, there were only so many hours of darkness.

"I can wait," he said, and sat down on the opposite end of the couch.

I wasn't sure where to start so I took my time getting situated on the couch. "You really don't remember anything at all?"

"I didn't know my name until you told it to me."

"I haven't known you that long. I don't even know where to start."

"Tell me how we met," Eric suggested.

That was a story I didn't really feel like getting into. My anger with Bill had diminished, but there was still a sore spot in my heart from his betrayal. And I didn't see how I could tell that story without bringing him into it.

But I could try. "At your bar. My brother was under suspicion for the murders of some girls that also had connections to vampires. I was trying to find out information that helped clear his name. You called me over."

"Of course I did. How could I not?" He beckoned me with his eyes and a mischievous smile, but I held fast.

"Not now, buddy. I've got some explaining to do. And it won't get done if I come any closer." I crossed my arms around my legs and let my chin rest on my knees.

"Fine, tell me more."

So with as few details as possible, I told him about that night and how I'd tipped him off about the raid, revealing my telepathy in the process. I fast-forwarded through being summoned to help find out who was stealing money from the bar, Bill's trial for killing Longshadow, the maenad, his torture of my friend Lafayette, Dallas, the bullet, the Fellowship and Godric, playing down my own personal drama with Bill but not failing to highlight his normal attitude and what I knew of his professional obligations. That was the point of this. I needed to get him primed to act like Sheriff Eric.

He was very quiet as I rambled about how I had come to know him. His smile fell and he appeared more contemplative than playful.

When I got to the turning point in our relationship, where I'd needed his help to find Bill as much as he'd needed mine, it got a little harder to be objective about things. If Bill hadn't been kidnapped, I might have never found out about his betrayal, let alone been on the receiving end of his most violent base instincts.

Luckily, as promised, the pizza delivery guy arrived in just under thirty minutes. I was saved by the bell and left thoughts of that back in the dark corners of my mind where they belonged.

Though Eric didn't have food, he did have plates and other minimal bachelor-type kitchen accessories to convince a casual observer that a human man lived here. I loaded up a plate full of cheesy pizza and filled a glass with tap water, the only human beverage available. If I was going to stay here a couple days I'd get some basics tomorrow. Cold pizza would get me through breakfast. I'd made Eric stay out of sight while the delivery guy was here, and when I returned to the couch, his face lit up at my return.

Being on the receiving end of a look like that sure made a girl feel special. But it was still overwhelming, especially given the circumstances. Maybe doing whatever it was I was doing with Eric under these conditions hadn't been the best idea. But even if my better judgement wished I'd been more reserved, there was nothing I could do to change what had happened, and part of me didn't want to. It felt too good to give in to this feeling after trying to bottle it up for so long.

Eric was dangerous and gorgeous and I wanted him. I stood in the doorway for a moment, a little dizzy from the exhilaration of that admission.

Resisting the urge to ditch my dinner, jump into Eric's lap and make a meal of his mouth, I settled into the couch with my pizza. I finished my first slice as I slowly as I could, given my ravenous hunger and the much delayed meal. I took a long drink of water, realizing I was as prepared as I ever would be to continue my tale.

"So, I mentioned Bill before? My boyfriend when we first met?"

"Yes," Eric said. He didn't seem to be excited about his parts of the story.

"Well, the night he proposed, he was also kidnapped by his maker."

"Lorena? The 'ho' Godric kicked out of his area because she threatened you and disrupted the peace?" It poked my heart in a particularly sore spot to hear Eric say Godric's name without a hint of the reverence he'd once reserved for it. I'd only briefly mentioned how he'd met the sun, but hadn't been able to fully explain the scene I'd witnessed on that rooftop. It saddened me to think that Eric had no clue what his maker had meant to him. I couldn't imagine forgetting what Gran had meant to me. I resolved right then to make sure Eric got his memories back. As much as I liked this more easygoing and affectionate version of him, I'd rather take the good with the bad. I didn't want a relationship with a shadow of Eric. I wanted the real thing.

"Yeah."

"You were his? But no more?"

"Yeah. I mean, he was sent to procure me for your queen. After he was gone, you were kinda protecting me from her, or _for _ her, she thinks. She wanted Bill back, and since you were his sheriff, she wanted you to find him, and I wanted to help … so we saved him. After that I wanted to stay away from vampires."

"But I wouldn't let you do that?" That mischievous smile played around the corners of Eric's mouth, which made me feel a little better. The real Eric was definitely in there.

"No. You're very stubborn. You wanted to have sex with me. And you wanted to use my telepathy when you need to find stuff out about humans." I'd had to be real clear about how my powers only worked on humans and had fibbed a little when he'd asked if I'd ever read his thoughts. It'd only been that one time, an isolated incident. Not worth mentioning now, at any rate.

"Find stuff out?" Eric reached for my foot, tickling the bottom of it. I squirmed and pulled it out of his reach, but he just moved on to the next one, so I relented.

"Like, this vampire, Waldo, was glamouring humans to kill people because he liked to watch. Then he'd started making them kill themselves. It was making your area look bad. At first we didn't know there was a vampire involved, just that women were turning up dead. You convinced me to help you for their sake—and yours, too. We caught him. The AVL—the American Vampire League, which I don't know anything about, really, besides what I see on the news—is having you milk the incident for all it's worth, because they are lobbying to get the amendment passed that will make y'all full citizens so the good deed you did in letting him be prosecuted instead of covering it up is good PR, I guess." I wasn't going to be teaching any college courses in vampire politics anytime soon, but that was the best explanation Professor Sookie could come up with. Pam would have to fill in the rest of the details.

Eric sat perfectly still, his eyes focused intently on something I couldn't see, so I picked at my second piece of pizza, eating the toppings off first, but his faraway look was still there by the time I'd started chewing on the crust. I guess my little tale would be a lot to take in.

After Eric had sifted through his thoughts, he looked straight at me. "Tell me about when I gave you my blood."

I sighed, set down my plate on the side table, and wiped my hands and mouth on the paper napkin that was thoughtfully included with my pizza. "The first time, you tricked me and it was just a tiny bit. The second time, I'd been staked and I was going to die without it. And again when I hurt my hand. Without vampire blood, it never would have healed right. I'd have lost my job." I was trying to stick to the facts, rather than bringing up the confusing and contradictory emotions surrounding each exchange. Which was fine in theory, but harder in practice. Every time I thought about how much of Eric's blood I'd had, I wondered if that was the only reason I'd developed these feelings for him in the first place.

He reached out to pull my foot closer, forcing my leg to extend, and started massaging my feet. I blushed, remembering the last footrub Eric had given me. "I have not treated you well in the past," Eric said in a soft, sad voice, as he continued to work on my foot.

"No. I mean, not always. But you were always there for me when I really needed you. You'll see, when you get your memories back. You've changed in the short time I've known you. Or at least my perception of you has changed." I gave Eric a small smile, but he didn't return it. Instead, the skin between his eyes crinkled with worry, and I watched as he searched for words, something I'd never seen him do before.

"But you denied my advances then. Before, you would not be mine."

"I told you. It's complicated. It'd take all night to explain it all. And I don't think that's exactly what Pam had in mind when she said to bring you up to speed on things." His hands stilled, but didn't move off me. Instead, they eased up my calves, then hooked under my knees, pulling me forward slightly so I was laying flat on my back on the couch.

Eric leaned over me, that much closer. "But it is not complicated now? You want to be with me?" Oh, it was definitely still complicated. Maybe even more so now, since Eric was being targeted by some unknown enemy. But the way he made me feel … I hoped it was worth it.

"I … I want to try."

Eric nodded once, as if my answer was satisfying enough, and then he closed the distance between us in one fell swoop. Once he had me firmly in his grasp, his movements slowed. He reached up to brush a few strands of hair that had come loose from my ponytail, then cupped my cheek with his hand. Turning the full force of those intense blue eyes on me, he said, "you are so beautiful." I couldn't recall a time when any man had ever looked directly into my eyes and said that. It took my breath away.

He brushed his lips across my cheek and my arms wound around him, and then our mouths met and I couldn't believe I had made it this long without kissing Eric. It felt like years, even though it had only been hours. His taste, the feel of his weight on me, the chorus of the little sounds of pleasure we both made, even his smell, it all created an intoxicating effect that was absolutely addictive.

We continued in that vein for quite a while, as Eric stretched the neck of my sweatshirt so he could kiss all the way down to my collarbone. It was only when he started fumbling with the button of my jeans I thought we'd better move.

"Let's go to the bedroom," I managed to say before Eric claimed my mouth again.

All I got in response was a grumble as he pulled down my zipper.

"Eric, we can't do this right here."

"Why not? It's my house." He'd managed to work one hand up under my back so he could unfasten my bra and was able to magically pull it off my arms, too. He might have broken the straps. I didn't care.

"Pam's coming back … I don't want …" Rather than listen to my arguments against getting it on in his living room, he relented, and lifted me off the sofa. We stumbled down the hall, Eric laughing as my jeans fell down. I kicked one leg off, then stepped on the rest to pull out my other foot, and chased after him until we made it to the bedroom. He pulled off his own shirt and jeans and tossed them carelessly aside, just as I struggled out of the last of my clothes. Then I was in his arms, his skin against mine, and we collapsed on the big bed in the room at the end of the hall in a tangle of limbs.

Our restless hands moved over each other's bodies, groping as if we were trying to hold onto all of each other at once. Eric's bed was much bigger than mine and gave us plenty of room to play, and we did. I felt more uninhibited, more comfortable exploring than I ever had before, and touched Eric and let him touch me in new and exciting ways. We kissed and laughed and enjoyed each other and any worries about how we'd gotten here or what would happen in the future melted away..

"Roll over," Eric whispered, and I wasn't sure which way he meant until his hands turned me over and started kissing down my shoulder as he positioned himself behind me. One arm snaked underneath me, cupping my breast so he could pinch my nipple, and I realized what he intended so I raised myself up on my arms and spread my knees further apart. When he slid into me, I realized I was going to like this new angle. When his other hand reached around to rub circles on my most sensitive spot, I decided it was a new favorite.

As Eric kissed my neck, his fangs grazed my skin. "Lover, look," he said hoarsely, and I opened my eyes and lifted my head and realized we were facing the full-length mirror outside his closet. Our bodies moving together, Eric's giant hands on me, our eyes locked in the mirror—it was easily the most erotic scene I'd ever witnessed.

Tension continued to build inside me as I watched our reflection, spellbound. The only sounds were the slapping of his skin against mine and my rapid heartbeat and breath. Watching made every motion that much more intense, and when I was just on the edge, Eric's fangs pierced the soft flesh where my neck met my shoulder, and if he hadn't held me up, I would have collapsed. I'd never experienced such pleasure—tears squeezed out of the corner of my eyes, it was so overwhelming. My legs gave out and Eric fell with me as he continued to lick at the wound.

"You're spectacular," Eric murmured as he kissed along my neck, then up near my ear. "Perfect."

"You're not so bad yourself," I gasped between breaths.

Even though I was sort of enjoying the feeling of his weight on me, Eric rolled off of me, and I let out a growl of protest.

"Don't worry. I'm not letting you go," Eric whispered against my ear, and pulled me back against his chest, spooning me from behind. His hand ran over my body possessively, and I liked it.

"Better not," I said, and turned over my shoulder to kiss him. Then, with his arms securely around me, I drifted off to sleep.

I woke up sometime later alone in the huge bed with my bladder screaming for relief. Groping for the bedside table, I found a lamp and switched it on. Eric's black T-shirt was on the floor where he'd left it and I slipped it on, wrapping myself in his lingering scent.

I scrambled to the bathroom. I was glad I'd left my bag there earlier and extra glad that Pam had thought to tell me to bring tissue, because I didn't think I could hold it for another second.

As I was finishing up, I became aware of raised voices arguing—Eric and a woman that had to be Pam. I followed the voices to the living room. From Pam's tone it was clear that she was frustrated with Eric.

"I will not leave Sookie," Eric said.

"Fine. Bring her along. But you have to show up. It's been too long since your last appearance."

"Why do I need to put myself on display? That is degrading." I guess he was having trouble understanding Fangtasia's business model.

"It's not just the display, Eric," Pam was saying. "You are a sheriff. You have work to do. And you have to be seen. Things have to look normal."

"For who?"

"The queen's spies. Victor's spies. Gervaise's spies. For whoever attacked you." Pam was exasperated, her voice louder with every word. "The queen's enemies. Your enemies—"

"But you said none of my enemies were close," Eric interrupted.

"Well _someone_ is!" Pam's tone was harsh. "Until we know what happened to you and why, you've got to show you're in control of Area 5."

"But I'm not. I don't even know who I am." Eric's frustration was plain. "All I know is Sookie."

"Eric _it's not just about you,_" Pam was growling now. "You are the strongest sheriff in Louisiana. If you don't show it not only will you be attacked, the whole state is at risk. You know—or used to know—that the only reason Sophie-Ann and all her people haven't been killed yet is because you swore fealty to her."

I thought about what that could mean for the vampires I'd come to care about—Eric, Pam, Jessica, Hadley … even Bill … and my blood ran cold. Maybe I should have tried harder to remind Eric of his duties instead of letting our hormones do the talking.

"She's right, you know," I said, causing two pairs of piercing blue eyes to swing in my direction.

"Well, thanks for the Sookie Seal of Approval," Pam snapped. "We couldn't proceed without that."

"Consider yourself lucky," Eric said sharply. "She is the only ally I trust right now."

Pam gasped a little and turned away, wiping her eyes. I could see she'd been hurt by that, but had no idea what I could say to make things better. Gran always said that sometimes the right thing to say is nothing, and this felt like one of those times.

Eric beckoned me to join him on the couch, and once I was next to him he pulled a throw blanket off the back of it to cover my legs, then put his arm around my shoulders. Just as I was trying to situate myself, I felt something poking me in the butt, and realized I was sitting on my bra. Well, part of it. The underwire was exposed from where it'd been ripped in half.

"Oh, here's the other half. Tell me, should I look for the matching panties?" Pam said with a smirk as she handed me the left cup of my lacy bra.

That's enough," Eric said, shooting Pam a look so cold it reminded me of the real Eric.

"So, Sookie. Since you're the only one Eric trusts, let's hear your take on this debacle," Pam said sarcastically. Whatever signs of emotion had been there were now gone, replaced by an edgy hostility.

"Well," I began cautiously, looking up at Eric. "I don't know that much about vampire politics, but I do know you have a pretty badass reputation." Eric looked absurdly pleased at this. I rolled my eyes. "I was afraid of you when we first met." The pleased expression vanished. "My point is, other vamps know you're powerful. And as much as I hated it when you called me an asset, other vampires know you have a telepath. If you're gone, if your queen is as weak as Pam says—"

"She is," Pam interjected. "Everyone knows that too."

"Then Pam is right. The whole state is in danger, including me. And you _were _all bloody when I found you, so it looks like someone has already tried to kill you."

"I will never let anyone harm you." Eric said this in a cold tone that brooked no argument.

"Now _that's_ what I'm talking about," Pam said with delight. "That's the Eric people need to see. At Fangtasia."

"Or Pam," I encouraged him. "You might not know it right now, but you'd never forgive yourself if you let anything happen to her. Or any of the vampires in your … sheriffdom." Neither vampire made any comment. Pam's expression was as frosty as ever, but I hoped she'd see that I respected her place in Eric's life.

Eric seemed to be thinking over what I'd said, but not for long. For a dead guy, his mind worked pretty fast.

"Alright," he said with resignation. "Tell me what I have to do."

"_Finally!_" Pam was elated to be making headway with him.

She went on to explain what Eric had on his agenda for tomorrow night, including a check-in for visiting vampires—apparently Bill would be bringing one, which I tried not to speculate about—and an important interview about Waldo's capture.

"Sookie should be able to help with that. She was there," she said. I groaned, but realized that was the easiest way to get him through it.

"Yeah, I can help with that," I agreed, before letting out a huge yawn. I definitely needed more sleep.

"Good." Pam was back to brisk efficiency. "Meet me at Fangtasia just after sundown. We'll regroup and go over any last minute details."

"I'll walk you out," I offered, and motioned for Eric to stay while I followed Pam to the door.

"Any other ideas on his memory loss? If you want my help, you need to keep me in the loop," I said softly. I really hoped Pam would come to trust me at least a little bit.

"You're a human Sookie—well, mostly. Trusting you doesn't come easy." She looked away, unable to meet my eyes. It occurred to me how lucky Eric was to have her. I knew enough about vampires to know that not all maker-child relationships were loving, but Pam was beyond devoted to Eric. "Taking care of him helps," Pam said, then left before I could reply.

I walked back into the living room, and was surprised that Eric wasn't there. I turned down the hall, where he stood laughing at his little trick.

"Come to bed with me, Sookie," he said. My heart jumped an extra beat, but my body screamed in protest. I was going to be sore tomorrow already. No way was I up for another round.

"But it's nearly dawn. You've got to get locked down for the day."

He held out his hand as he opened the door to the walkout basement that had been converted into a secure and light-tight bedroom. I hadn't noticed the door before. Pam must have shown him how to access it while I'd been sleeping in the upstairs bedroom. "I know. Come with me. I want your heartbeat to be the last thing I hear."

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><p>Up next: Group therapy gets a bad name, Hoyt gets an education and an unexpected "summer" heat wave hits parts of Clarice.<p> 


	10. Chapter 10: Another Day in Paradise

A/N: Thanks to everyone who continues to read and review. Thanks to Charlaine Harris and Alan Ball for bringing us these fabulous characters. Sorry for the delayed update. It's been like a month, we know. Both of us have been busy and overwhelmed with real life, and there were some logistical type what-when issues to work out (deciding to tell a story from multiple first person perspective makes time-lining the plot extra tricky). We hope you enjoy this peek into the subplot and appreciate any thoughts you might want to share.

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><p><strong>Another Day In Paradise<strong>

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><p>"Rise and shine!" The too-cheerful shriek rammed into my brain like a hurricane warning, jerking me out of a great dream about Jessica. Some idiot yanked the window blinds up with a loud snap and morning sunshine hit my dried-out eyes like flak from a wood chipper. I groaned and pulled the covers over my head. Maybe if I stayed in bed all day, these lunatics would take the hint and leave me alone. No such luck. The voice went on like fingernails on a chalkboard, blurting "As Reverend Newlin always says, daylight is God's gift to humanity—can't be wastin' it!"<p>

"Reverend Newlin can bite me," I muttered into the pillow.

"What?" The voice got closer and I was tempted to launch a solid kick off the edge of the too-short bed.

"I said, I'm comin' already. Hold your horses."

"If you don't get a move on, there won't be any eggs left!" The voice called, fading away. Just I was drifting back to sleep, the blanket was jerked off and the unholy voice was back. "Come on big boy, we got a surprise for you later—something very special is going to happen tonight. You're so lucky you were saved yesterday!"

"Lucky" had nothing to do with this mess. Neither did being saved. (I was already a Christian and didn't need saving anyway.) I groaned and sat up stiffly, squinting reluctantly at a skinny girl in a sunny yellow cheerleader's getup. Mary Sunshine or whoever she was straightened her visor and bounced out of the room. I looked down at the faded yellow t-shirt and grey sweatpants I'd been given after being stripped of all my belongings last night, and rubbed my face with both hands. I was so tired that I still might have tried to stay in bed if I hadn't had to pee so bad.

Yesterday had been one hell of a day. Once Bellefleur dropped me off here with an apologetic "Good luck", the first thing they took from me was my cell phone. There was no way to contact anyone; I wasn't even allowed to see the other so-called "guests" for my first 24 hours.

First thing they did was ship me off to "orientation" which consisted of a long session in a soundproof booth for one, with no escape from some Clockwork Orange-type "deprogramming" film. It was full of leering, bloody-faced vampires attacking children and pregnant women, along with news stories and sermons about the evils of vampires. They hadn't pinned my eyes open, but I'd been strapped down "for my own protection." I figured the vamp footage had to be faked since real vampires don't act like that. Not the ones I know, anyway. And if they did, they sure as hell would take out anyone caught filming them.

The freak show went on for hours. I hollered to be let out but there was never any response and since the restraints wouldn't budge, there was nothing to do but sit there. When it finally ended, I was mad enough to come out swinging. But they were ready for that and hit me with some kind of knock-out shot. My arms and legs went all wobbly and I was half-carried to my room and strapped down again, on the bed this time. Bulky headphones were clamped onto my ears to deliver sinister messages. For hours eerie voices whispered to me of the evil nature of vampires.

"_Vampires will kill you."_

"_Humans are meant to live in the daylight."_

"_God hates fangs and so should you."_

"_Vampires have taken away your God-given free will. Do you want to be a slave of Satan?"_

The hateful words repeated over and over and I lost all sense of time. As the drug took hold I drifted awhile, sort of half-conscious until they'd removed the restraints and headphones. They'd brought me a tray with cold, brown stuff and a glass of milk, but I hadn't touched it. I'd laid down on the cot and tossed and turned until I fell into a restless sleep. When Little Miss Sunshine rudely woke me up, it felt like only minutes later.

Yeah. One hell of a day. I definitely wasn't excited for that surprise.

I rubbed my face again and got up to pee and brush my teeth. Ten minutes later I was treated to cold toast, pulpy orange juice, and yes, eggs.

"Sunny-side up!" the young freckle-faced cook said as she slid the plastic-looking eggs onto my plate. I sat down at the only open folding chair at one of the two tables in the dining hall, and poked one with a fork. The yolk ran out, bleeding yellow on my plate.

Mary Sunshine kept going on and on about the "big surprise" in store for us later and promising an afternoon full of activities and fellowship. I scooped up a bite of egg and let it slide down my throat. At least today's misery would have company. And Bellefleur had said they could only hold me for three days. I could stand it for two more days.

"I'm Erin," said a chipper girl with dull brown bangs that started halfway back her head. "And this is Mike and Dan." Mike looked like a standard issue businessman while Dan had tons of holes in his face. I guessed he usually wore a bunch of rings and studs and stuff but they took his hardware away, leaving a mess of ugly holes. I looked away to avoid staring. The stretched out skin on his ears was pretty gross.

"Hi," was all I could think of to say. As pissed as I was about being here, I knew they were in the exact same position so I tried not to take my bad mood out on them.

"So, what are you in for?" Erin asked with a smile. While the guys at our table seemed to be in no better mood than me, Erin was bright and cheerful and proudly wore a t-shirt that read "I've seen the light". Mine just had a small logo.

"Apparently love is a crime now," I grumbled, then took another bite of the cold eggs with runny yokes. I'd already learned not to skip meals here. After refusing last night's meatloaf, I was so hungry I could eat a herd of stink bugs off a skunk.

"Oh, you're just like me when I first got there. So 'in love' … you'll see, that's just your mind playing tricks on you. That's the easiest kind of vampire infatuation to get over, they say. Mike's here because he got swept up in a get-rich scheme with some vamps, and Dan was addicted V. He'd give sexual favors to vamps for a fix." Both men shot Erin a look, as if they didn't want her airing their dirty laundry.

She scoffed. "Oh, come off it guys, there's no use trying to hide it. You know it'll all come up in group therapy anyway."

"Group therapy?" I was almost afraid to ask, but I didn't want to have any more surprises.

"Oh, don't worry, you'll have individual with Dr. Updike first. She'll explain." I turned to the guys, but neither would meet my eyes or offer any explanation of what was going on. This place was definitely giving me the creeps. I just kept telling myself that they could only keep me for a few days, and they hadn't actually hurt me so much as annoyed me. I could get through this, and when I did, I was taking Jessica out for a night on the town and treating myself to a steak dinner. This food was really atrocious, and considering my momma's cooking, that's saying something.

An announcement over the loudspeaker signaled the end of breakfast and reminded us about the "special treat" scheduled for this evening.

"Hey there, cutie," a perky blond said after materializing at my elbow. She had those clean and wholesome good looks, and wasn't shy about showing off her ample bosom in a tight sundress. "I'm Summer. I'll show you to your next appointment.

"But the announcement just said it was free time," I protested. Time I was planning to use to figure out how to bust out of this place.

"Not for you! You're off to your first session with Dr. Updike. And I'm sure she'll set you right. You look far too sweet to be mixed up with vampires."

We walked down a long hallway, and I tuned out her constant stream of chatter and giggles. We stopped in front of a corner office, and Summer knocked three times then turned back to me. "I'll see you later," and winked at me before walking away.

"Mr. Fortenberry …" an older, attractive woman in grey slacks and a white button down shirt asked from her the recliner in the corner. She looked good, even though her outfit and black-framed glasses weren't very feminine. "Or may I call you Hoyt?"

"Yeah. Whatever." I plopped down on the long couch. At least if I had to spend time in this room, I got a comfortable place to sit. "You must be Dr. Updike."

"You can call me Shannon. We're going to be friends. I can tell." If her conspiratorial smile was supposed to get me thinking that, it wasn't working.

"Holding people against their will, shootin' 'em full of drugs and serving runny eggs ain't the way to make friends." She smiled again, but there was a hardness to it. Dr. Updike—Shannon—set her fancy clipboard aside, uncrossed her legs, and leaned forward.

"You'd be surprised," she said with a mirthless laugh. "Tell me how you ended up here, Hoyt."

"My momma called the cops because she hates my girlfriend. That's it."

"Oh, Hoyt, it's much deeper than that. There's something inside you, something that drew you to the darkness of the vampire world. With our help, you're going to find out what that is and face it. That's why God brought you to us." Well, hell. I guess having a bunch of fancy degrees don't stop you from being bat-shit crazy like the rest of 'em.

"God had nothin' to do with it," I snapped. "The cops brought me here. _Against my will_."

Looked like this was going to be another _long_ day. Even if "Shannon" was concerned on the surface, she had to know what I'd been through yesterday. Hell, maybe she even planned it. I didn't buy her friendly routine for one second.

I glared silently at her for awhile, listening to the clock tick and the hum of florescent light bulbs as the seconds stretched out and each passing moment seemed to grow longer. And Dr. Updike just sat there, looking back at me with a serene smile.

"You don't really seem like a Fellowship of the Sun person to me." I finally said, because I just couldn't stand it anymore.

"You don't really seem like a vampire person to me." She paused and jotted a quick note then looked back up at me, eyebrow cocked. "So why don't you tell me? Why did you get involved with a vampire?"

"I fell in love." Another smile from Dr. Updike, amused this time. Like the others, it didn't feel real or friendly.

And then she started interrogating me. She got out of me that my mother hated red shoes, my dad had died when I was 10 and that I'd licked my own scabs as a child, curious about the taste of blood. But she didn't seem to believe that _all _boys do gross stuff like that. It made me wonder if she knew any. And every time I said something, she made some notation on her fancy clipboard.

"Alright," she said. "Enough ancient history. Let's take a look at what's going on in your head right now. We're going to do some word-association play. Do you know what that is?"

"Not really," I said suspiciously.

"I'm going to say a word, and I want you to tell me the first word you think of in response." OK, that didn't sound too bad.

"Sleep."

That one was easy—I wanted some. "Tired." She made a note.

"God."

"Love."

"Day."

"Work."

"Night."

"Star."

"Drink."

"Abita." She gave me a strange look. "What?" I asked defensively. "That's what I drink." It was a damn good beer.

"What does your girlfriend drink?" Dr. Updike asked pointedly.

"She's a vampire. She drinks blood." Maybe this doctor wasn't as smart as she looked. Seemed like a pretty obvious question to me.

"Does that seem natural to you?" The doctor frowned, which was supposed to mean something I guess.

"Well, sure. She's a vampire. That's all she _can_ drink. Or eat." Duh. More scribbling.

"Hmm. Let's continue. Red."

"Eagles."

"Sex."

"Virgin." Updike looked surprised, but I wasn't going to explain. That was private between me and Jessica.

"Evil."

"Hate. Hate is evil." Another note.

"Fangs."

"Bite." More scribbling.

"Sunshine."

"Meddling." The doctor gave me another weird look.

"Why does sunshine make you think of meddling?" she asked.

"Because every time I go out in the damn sunlight, my momma comes chasin' after me and layin' on the sunscreen. Don't matter who's there or if she's embarrassin' me or even that I'm a grown man fer godsakes!" That prompted several minutes of writing in her notebook.

And then the hour was up. I wondered why you needed a college education just to poke and prod people about embarrassing stuff. My momma did that just fine, and she didn't have any special schooling. We stood and walked out the door, just as the loudspeaker announced a nature walk in fifteen minutes, "So you can relearn to appreciate sunshine. Don't forget about the special surprise tonight!" the perky voice added.

"Oh boy," I said sarcastically. "Fresh air and sunshine. Just what I need." Then I had an idea: if I could get away from the group, maybe there was a way to escape. All I had to do was get to the highway. From there I could hitch a ride back to Bon Temps or call Jason to come and get me.

"Don't get to enjoy that with Jessica, do you?" Updike's nasty question broke into my plans.

"Don't need to."

"You love her?"

"I do."

"And she loves you?"

"Of course. One more day and I'm goin' straight back to her."

Another smile—this one with just a trace of malice to it. "If she loves you, why didn't she come bust you out last night?" Then she turned and walked the other direction down the hall.

I shouted after her, "Because I was kidnapped! She doesn't even know I'm here!"

Then Summer came bounding up beside me. "You look lost … like a lost little puppy. Come with me, I'll show you outside." She looped her arm in mine, holding on tight. "Everyone's a little lost the first few days."

"First few days? It's only gonna be three days, then you gotta let me go. That's what the law says, right?"

"Oh, well …" Summer looked away. "That's not really my department. Forget I said anything. Now, let's just enjoy the sunshine!"

The "nature walk" consisted of a path around the building with tall fences and barbed wire between me and freedom. The high point was when we came across a dead squirrel, and the leader pointed out that it was as "dead as a vampire". Summer was talking my damn ear off and I was glad when she had to join the other staff for a meeting and we inmates were left to lunch.

As I filed into the cafeteria, it looked like Erin had saved me a seat, so I joined the same group I'd met at breakfast. As we ate Spaghetti-O's and salad Erin gave me some background for the group therapy session.

"Some of the stories you'll hear are quite shocking, and I think a heads-up would really help to soften the blow," she explained. I did have to fight back a cough as she relayed a story about Terese, a former blood hooker. "Such a sad story, really. The poor girl would still be on the street if it wasn't for the charity of this organization."

"How long has she been here?" Erin made it sound like Terese had been here for weeks.

"Oh, since before I came, so over a month." That was a shocker.

"I thought this was just a three day thing. Evaluation and release. Like fishing."

Mike and Dan just laughed bitterly. "Yeah. Keep telling yourself that."

I speared some of the mushy canned pasta on my fork and swirled it in the thin red sauce before shoving it in my mouth. Obviously this place was not exactly as advertised. I had to find a way out, and soon.

"All right!" Janetta was making some announcement. "Now I know y'all are real excited about the big surprise tonight—" I looked around. _Nobody _seemed worked up about it—"but we've got group therapy after lunch! See you there!"

I tried to ditch group therapy by heading for a nap, but Summer caught on and dragged me back to the group room "like a little lost lamb." There was a circle of chairs mostly filled with other prisoners and all eyes turned to me as I entered, apparently last.

"Welcome, Hoyt," a staff member called. He was very official-looking in his yellow golf shirt. "I'm Jim, and I'll be guiding these recovery sessions. Why don't you get things started by telling us your story."

"Naw, I think I'll just listen for awhile," I said, taking an empty chair close to the door.

"Well then, why don't we start with Janetta. She joined us several weeks ago and has stayed on to help guide others out of the darkness and into the light. Her story continues to be an inspiration to us all!"

Jim the group leader directed our attention to a brunette girl about my age. She was a librarian type—the nerdy, hot kind, not the old lady who shushes kind—and seemed really eager to tell her story, as if she'd practiced a bunch of times.

"My name is Janetta, and I've seen the light."

"Hi, Janetta," the rest of the group called out without enthusiasm.

"It took me a while to realize the first step, but admitting that I was powerless gave me the faith to put myself in God's hands. I was like all of you, lost and lonely, and I thought being with a vampire would make me feel more alive. I spent night after night hoping to get close to them, to love one, to have one love me." She made an exaggerated sad face, her mouth curling down like a dead fish. A few kind souls offered murmurs of condolences and empathy, including Erin, the most sincere of the sympathizers. Most of the others sat listlessly in their folding chairs, eyeing the clock or their watches, counting down the minutes until their release, just as I was. The girl I suspected was Terese—the former blood hooker—looked like she was ready to crawl out of her skin or up the walls like some sort of scuttling insect.

"But now, I realize that was no way to live. All that path held was death." Janetta went on and on about the evil of vampires. I guess the brainwashing session had really stuck with her. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "Now, I live in God's light and I have committed my life to spreading that light."

Jim tried to rouse a round of applause, but only he and Erin clapped. "Now, Janetta, tell us about how you found the light."

"Well, I was at the bar Fangtasia, and..." My ears perked up. I'd been there with Jessica, but I hadn't remembered seeing this girl.

"An angel came to me. A most beautiful angel. She told me that my grandmother was right. That I had better do His work. She gave me purpose."

"See, folks! Miracles happen every day!" I frowned at that. What I saw in Janetta was someone who had traded one obsession for another.

Everyone had a chance to take a turn, though it took a lot of prodding from Jim to get anyone to volunteer. I got lucky and the hour ended before I'd been forced to participate. If I could just go through the motions here for a couple of days, then I could go back to my life—and Jessica.

"The time you've all been waiting for has finally arrived!" A voice over the loudspeaker announced. Please join us in the chapel!"

I groaned. I'd been ready for my bed, or some decent food. Instead, I followed the crowd for our "surprise". The pews were filling up quickly, and I had to take a seat in the front row. Summer had been saving it for me and enthusiastically waved me over.

"Couldn't you just burst with excitement?"

"I'll be excited when my three days are up and I can leave," I said.

"Don't be like that," she pouted. "This is going to be really special. You'll see."

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><p><strong>Up next: Claudine reveals bad blood, Sookie does her homework, eavesdropping sparks a bad idea and Eric's insecurity is showing.<strong>


	11. Chapter 11: That Old Black Magic

As always, thanks to Charlaine Harris and Alan Ball, they made this all possible. It all belongs to them. Glad some of you enjoyed the Hoyt chapter. I don't want to let subplots overwhelm the Eric and Sookie storyline (as True Blood has done, in my opinion). Thanks to those who share their thoughts!

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><p><strong>That Old Black Magic<strong>

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><p>I tried to roll over in bed and stretch, but was met with considerable resistance with the weight of a very limp vampire whose limbs were wrapped around me. Eric sure was a snuggler, though it had been a lot more fun when he wasn't dead.<p>

My muscles were deliciously sore and moving was that good kind of agonizing. I held up the dead weight of Eric's arm that was slung over my torso and rolled out from under him. I extended my arms above my head, rotated my neck, then stretched out my legs and pointed my toes before settling down next him.

He was as beautiful as ever even though seeing him like this made it clear he really was dead. I traced the contours of his face, brushing his hair back. Looking down at him while he was so defenseless, so completely at my mercy, it was hard to imagine that I'd once been frightened of him. This was all so surreal.

I'd had sex with Eric, several times in my bed, then in his house. And then I'd really slept with Eric. In his underground secret bedroom where he'd died for the day.

It was all so fast. Too fast. And yet I couldn't keep from counting the hours until he'd be up again. I brushed the hair back from his eyes and left a lingering kiss on his cheek. It felt wrong to be so excited about the new development in our relationship when he was so clearly … damaged.

"Are you in there, Eric?" I whispered. Part of me longed for the return of the Eric I've always known, who seemed so sure of himself, the Eric who would take charge and figure this out.

But wishing wouldn't make it so, let alone bring Eric's memories back. Lying around wasn't going to help matters, so I reluctantly rolled out of bed. Luckily I remembered how to get out of the underground chamber. My efforts were rewarded with leftover pizza in the fridge and a voicemail from Claudine inviting me to meet up with her this afternoon. I called her back while enjoying my spicy-sweet breakfast and made plans to meet my fairy godmother later. She seemed rather worldly, so she might know something about how to find a cure for whatever was ailing Eric.

I had some time to kill before I met Claudine, and I was reminded of one of my Gran's favorite phrases: there's no time like the present to get to fixing your problems. Since my main dilemma at the moment involved a memory-deficient vampire, I thought a little research was in order. I'm not what one would call tech-savvy, but I managed to sign on to Eric's computer as a guest and do some Googling. Unfortunately, if there were creatures who knew what could cause vampire memory loss, they didn't build websites. Most of the links I found took me to underground fangbanger chat rooms or mystical New-Age mumbo-jumbo. Nothing that seemed in the least bit helpful. I sighed in frustration. I looked up directions to the restaurant Claudine had suggested then shut down the computer to get showered and dressed before our lunch date. I hadn't packed for a lot of social events, so I hoped jeans and a sweater were nice enough for the restaurant.

Paying careful attention to the streets so I'd know how to get back to Eric's house, I found my way to our meeting place. When I entered the chic-but-casual bistro, she waved at me from a corner booth.

"Sookie," she said, standing to pull me into a big hug. It felt just like being wrapped up in my favorite worn quilt in front a fire. I was afraid I would wrinkle her clothes, which were fancy and silk, but she didn't seem worried at all and held onto me for a few moments. Her dark hair smelled like cherries and chocolate. "I'm glad you let me know you could use some help."

"But I didn't …" But Claudine just smiled mischievously, and I remembered she could somehow sense when I was in trouble. We sat slid back into our chairs.

"I would have called last night, but I was rather busy. As were you, I imagine." She winked at me and then turned her attention to her menu, leaving me wondering how much she actually knew. I found I liked being stumped for once, since I was used to being able to immediately tell exactly what someone thought and who had planted the rumor.

"I was glad you called. I do have a few questions I need to ask." But before I could get into it, the waiter appeared to take our order. Claudine ordered a chicken Cesar salad, and since I hadn't really seen anything better, I decided on the same.

"You're practically glowing, Sookie. Even if you are in danger, it suits you."

"Glowing?" I said, and looked at my hands. In my experience, when they started to glow, it meant that white light was going to shoot out of them, and wasn't something that suited me at all.

"No, your aura. Your skin. I told you that you wouldn't be able to help it." She was sporting that sly grin again.

"Help what?" Claudine just laughed indulgently, the sound musical, melodic. I had a feeling it was at my expense, but couldn't help but smile.

"You're too much fun, Sookie. Now, you have some questions for me."

I certainly did, though I didn't understand how she knew that. "I know you said you can't help me with vampire troubles."

Claudine flipped her long hair over her shoulder and sighed. "That's not exactly what I meant. Don't get me wrong, I understand the allure of vampires, so I'm not judging you for your involvement with them. The only problem is I haven't quite managed to master the skills that would make it safe for me to be in their presence. My kind doesn't mix much with them anymore, especially since the War."

"War?" The word got all choked up in my throat, though it had rolled casually off Claudine's tongue. Could this have something to do with Eric's current state?

"Oh, it was ages ago. Boring. Practically ancient history. Nothing that would interest you. Besides, these days, the Fae are more prone to fighting amongst themselves." Claudine deftly dodged my question. "But you've got a problem with your vampire?"

"Oh, he's not mine … " Claudine gave me a skeptical look, and I decided it wasn't worth it to argue the point. "Well, yes. Kind of." I looked around the dining room, nervous about being overheard, but since it was late afternoon, there weren't any other people seated at tables in our section. Besides, it was more Eric's problem than mine. I actually kind of liked this new Eric.

"You're falling for him, aren't you? I was told this might happen." I blushed. That was _so_ not the problem I was worried about now, though it was a secondary concern. Right now, the more pressing matter was finding out who or what had attacked Eric and stolen his past. Dealing with whatever had developed between us could wait until this mess was sorted out.

"That's not the problem Claudine. He's lost his memory. Completely. He's a different person entirely."

Claudine's face fell into an uncharacteristic frown. "That's what you need my help with? Not what I was expecting."

Before I could answer, the waiter returned with our salads. He set them in front of us and we assured him we didn't require anything else, so he went back to flirting with the bartender.

"Do you know what might cause that? How a vampire could completely forget who they are?" I asked, then started digging into my salad.

"Magic. That's the only possible explanation," Claudine offered before taking a bite. She chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then added, "but there are so many kinds. Hard to tell where to start."

"Magic?" I repeated stupidly.

"Sure. Even humans have their own kind of magic. Witches know how to control it and harness the elements, but your average Joe has a bit of it in him, even if he doesn't realize it. The Fae all have their own magic. Fairies are the most powerful, of course." Claudine preened a bit at this. "But other supernatural beings can wield magic as well." I just looked back at her, stunned. On some level this made sense—Bill had explained that it was magic that brought him to life each night.

"There are different kinds? Like black magic?" I wasn't naive enough to think that there weren't those that would use the power of magic for sinister purposes, but other than good vs. evil, I wasn't aware of different types of magic.

"Many different kinds—as many different magics as there are magical creatures. You have very strong magic in you, Sookie. It's why supernaturals are so drawn to you. It's only because so many of us have been driven from this world that you haven't gotten mixed up in all this sooner." I'd been willing to accept that Claudine was otherworldly, had even been open to the idea of the whole fairy godmother thing. But knowing she was just one of many different types of supernatural creatures was dumbfounding. Weres, shifters, fairies, vampires … how big was this world? And now she was saying _I_ was magical? I was starting to feel like Alice tumbling down the rabbit-hole. Could this "magic" be the reason for my telepathy and the occasional beams of light shooting out of my hands? Maybe I'd finally get an explanation for that—nothing in the rational world seemed to account for it.

"So this magic … would it have something to do with my special abilities?"

"I'm not really authorized to comment on that." Claudine's hesitant and carefully worded reply gave me the feeling she might be reporting to someone about me. Seems there was more to this whole fairy godmother thing than turning pumpkins into carriages.

Though I continued to question her, poking and prodding didn't help. Claudine was strangely cryptic about the exact nature of magical beings, even as I tried to nail down exactly what she was talking about. She either enjoyed the mischief of it all, or didn't understand how obtuse her responses were. An hour later, I was still not clear on the difference between brownies and elves, and had learned nothing new about vampires. In the hopes of getting more pieces of the puzzle to try to assemble later, I agreed to go with her for a pedicure after our late lunch, even though it seemed like a silly thing to do in the middle of winter. I wouldn't be wearing sandals any time soon, but Claudine explained that sometimes it was nice to do things just for yourself. And I couldn't remember the last time I'd done something like that, so I took her up on the offer.

"So, why exactly is it that vampires are so dangerous to fairies?" We were settled in to massage chairs with our feet in bubble jets tubs. The attendants were chatting with themselves in rapid fire Korean so I wasn't worried about talking about supernatural creatures. They'd probably assume we were discussing the latest HBO series. I'd taken the opportunity to try and get Claudine to spill some more information about vampires and fairies, but to not avail.

"Let's just say it can be a fatal attraction. For the fairy." Good thing I wasn't a fairy. She got that look in her eye and sighed a little, like Arlene always did she'd had a new crush. I wanted to ask about that, but Claudine changed the subject. "This is getting a little out of my job description. I'm supposed to help you stay out of trouble, not get you involved more deeply. And vampires and fairies are definitely trouble."

"So I'm like, your job?"

"What did you think being a fairy godmother was?" The only paradigm I had to work with was Cinderella's and her role was granting wishes. Apparently Disney got it wrong. "Let me pick out your color," she said, effectively changing the subject yet again. If I was learning anything about fairies tonight, it was that they could be just as evasive as vampires when it suited them.

Half an hour I later I had perfectly buffed feet and blood red toes, but more questions than answers.

"Sun will be setting soon … must be time for you to get home to that vampire of yours," Claudine said with a wink.

"Oh, wow—where did the time go? Shoot, I need to get some groceries before I head back too," I remembered.

"There's a fabulous little organic foods co-op and deli right near here." Claudine gave me some easy directions to a strip mall that was on my way home. "I'm sure you'll find what you need." She winked before sliding into her modest sedan and driving off.

When I pulled up in front of Good Life Organics, I couldn't help but notice the shop next door. I'd never had reason to pop into a magic shop before, but some instinct told me it might prove better than the World Wide Web at guiding me towards information on vampire memory loss. Though I noticed how low the sun was in the sky, I couldn't help but open the door and take a chance on Wise Woman's Herbs & Charms.

Inside, it felt more like a specialty gift and book shop than anything else, at least at first. A hidden bell chimed as I crossed the threshold. From behind the counter, a short girl in a long, loose skirt looked up and gave me a smile then went back to her work, leaving me to browse. I noticed the books were grouped by subject so zeroed in on the shelf on vampires.

Most of the titles came straight from the tabloids. It was obvious they'd been published in a post-revelation rush to capitalize on the public's curiosity about vampires. Amidst the slick paperbacks with their Gothic fonts and lurid graphic covers, a book with a nondescript black jacket caught my eye. I thumbed through it, but didn't see anything that was related to memory loss. If I hadn't scanned the table of contents, I would have just set it back on the shelf, but a chapter about the effects of vampire blood gave me pause.

"Looking for information on vampires?" The slim brunette who'd smiled when I entered spoke from right behind me. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

"Oh, just browsing," I said.

"If you're looking for tawdry details, go with this one," she said, grabbing a book that looked like a cross between a gossip magazine and comic book. "It's a fun read."

This salesgirl was a really strong broadcaster, and I could tell right away she was eager to make a sale. She'd struck out on her own when her rich father had scoffed at her desire to practice the craft, and then an unfortunate incident with an ex-boyfriend had sent her north from New Orleans. She felt lucky to get a job in this magic shop, but the owner was pushing her to make more sales.

"I'm actually doing some research," I said, hoping the young woman would take me seriously. Her eyes lit up.

"There are older texts if you're serious about that. What kind of stuff are you looking for?"

Here was the hard part. I could save a lot of time if this girl pointed me in the direction of something useful, but I didn't dare reveal Eric's secret, so I kept my answer vague.

"Actually, I'm interested in reading about a couple of specific things. The library didn't have a lot of resources, and I wanted to get as much as I could. One of the things I'm interested in is anything related to their blood and the effects of ingesting it. Myths, legends, anything really."

"Oh, that's the one, then. You found it yourself. Anything else?" She glanced to one side as a tall and gaunt woman came out of the shop's back room. When the other woman passed by without comment, she turned her attention back to me.

"What about memory? Anything on that?" Maybe I'd get lucky and some grad student or professor with a research grant had written something about vampire memory functions.

"Well, I'm not sure. Of course they have perfect recall. It's getting them to talk that's the tricky part. But that's just anecdotal stuff."

"Um, that's not what I meant, exactly." I hesitated, biting my lip. How much could I say without putting Eric at risk? The salesgirl nodded encouragingly as she replaced the _Ultimate Vampire Tattler_ on its shelf.

I drew a deep breath. "I had lunch today with a friend who told me there's different kinds of magic, and different kinds of magical creatures?" I was glad to 'hear' that this comment didn't automatically place me in the lunatic fringe.

"That's right," she said, appraising me with new eyes and held out her hand. "My name's Amelia, by the way. Amelia Broadway."

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I'm Sookie Stackhouse. Pleased to meet you." Gran would be disappointed in me for not introducing myself earlier. She had always taught me that manners are even more important in times of stress, and the crazy situation I'd found myself in was no excuse for forgetting common civility.

"Well Sookie Stackhouse, sounds like you've got a smart friend," Amelia said with a warm smile.

"Thanks. The thing is, I was wondering..." Damn, this was going to be harder than I thought. But there wasn't any way to learn what I needed to know by hinting around, so I took a deep breath and bit the bullet. "What kind of magic might cause a vampire to _lose_ their memory?" I held my breath and waited for her answer.

"Oh, that's a big one." Her eyes narrowed. "A memory spell that would work on a vampire?" She pretended to be searching for ideas, but was really wondering what the vamps had on me that I wanted them to forget. She thought that messing around with such a spell could work out very badly for me. I could tell she was about to feign ignorance to avoid that, so I quickly repeated, "It's research." Suddenly inspired, I added, "For a story I'm writing. It's only for my creative writing course, but I want it to be as realistic as possible."

"Oh." Amelia sounded relieved. "Well, in that case … some of our older grimoires might have something. I'll have to get Hallow, my boss, to unlock that cabinet. That's our rare and antique book section. Some of them are hundreds of years old." She scurried off to get her boss while I wondered what a grim-war was. That word had never appeared on my Word of the Day calendar.

Moments later, Amelia was back with the older woman I'd seen earlier. They motioned me toward a beautiful oak hutch with locking glass doors on the top section and several drawers on the bottom. Shelves inside the cabinet held a dozen or so aged books, the kind with ribbed leather binding and covers crackled with age.

"Amelia, what's a Grim War?" I asked. It was the older woman that answered, her voice surprisingly deep.

" A grimoire is a book of magical spells and invocations." She looked me over, cocking her head curiously. "Amelia tells me you're doing research for a novel?"

"Um, yes. Well," I corrected nervously, "A short story, actually. I need to figure out what could make a really old vampire lose their memory, and then how to undo it. For the happy ending." Put that way, my cover story sounded lame, even to me. The woman, who presumably was Hallow, looked at me critically for a few moments. Finally she said, "For that, you'd need necromancy."

"Excuse me?" Another not-Word-of-the-Day.

"Death magic," she clarified grimly.

"Would I have to kill someone?" I squeaked in dismay, then added hastily, "In my story, I mean."

Hallow gave me another long look. I wondered what she was thinking. Amelia was a strong broadcaster, but Hallow's thoughts weren't clear at all. All I got from her was a strong sense of curiosity and intrigue. Finally she replied, "Probably not."

I tried not to let my relief show.

Hallow unlocked the cabinet and folded both doors wide open, then pulled out a wide shelf that was hidden under the display case and reached into one of the drawers to retrieve a pair of white cotton gloves.

"Do you read Latin?" she asked, holding the gloves out to me.

"No," I had to admit. The only foreign language courses offered at Bon Temps were Spanish, and I hadn't taken them.

"Then I'll have to translate," she said, briskly donning the cotton gloves instead. "Amelia, mind the front counter." The young woman obediently left, broadcasting disappointment all the way. I could tell that Amelia took pride in her knowledge of magic and was eager to add to her expertise.

Hallow ran a pristine white finger along the rows of leather spines. "Let me see. Too bad we don't have a copy of the _Necronomicon_. That would be ideal. Of course _The Black Pullet_ would be just as good, but we don't have that either." Hallow studied the shelves, appearing to have forgotten I was there.

While she mused, I looked at the titles of this collection of ancient tomes. _The Goetia: The Lesser Key of Solomon the King_, a tall slim volume bound in worn brown leather. _The Grand Grimoire,_ a thick book with coarse-grained black covers._ Liber Juratus: The Sworn Book of Honorius; Pseudomonarchia Daemonum; The Book of Abramelin. _ I'd never heard of any of them.

"Ha! I knew it was here." The deep voice rumbled with satisfaction as Hallow produced another thick black book, with covers faded by age and sturdy ribs gripping the top and bottom of the spine. "If any book has what you need, this one will."

She laid the book gently on the pullout tray and turned to me. "Now," she said, gazing at me intently, "What did you say happened to your vampire?"

"_In my story,"_ I clarified carefully, "Some vampires are hexed by a powerful witch or sorcerer, and their friends find them wandering without any memories. They have to figure out who the witch is and get them to reverse the spell so their friends can get their lives back."

Hallow "harrumphed" skeptically, then carefully opened the ancient book, lifting the top cover gently and smoothing the thick parchment pages with her white-gloved hands. The hand-lettered pages had darkened with age, their edges gray and crumbling in places.

"How old is that book?"

"Well this one is a fourteenth century copy, but the original dates to the 1250s." Wow. No wonder she kept it locked up.

"Let's see," she mumbled, leafing through the ancient tome with exquisite gentleness. "For invisibility." Flip. Smooth. "For obtaining a flying throne. You don't want one of those, do you?" Flip. Smooth. "For resuscitating a dead person. Could that be it?" She ran her gloved finger down the page, whispering Latin phrases as she went. "No," she said in a disgusted tone. "Not that one." Flip. Smooth. "For arousing a woman's love. Definitely not." Flip. Smooth. "For causing a person to lose his senses. That's a possibility. Let me see." Again she scanned the page, whispering and muttering as she went. Upon reaching the bottom, she said, "This looks like what you need. I'll translate it for you. How fast can you write?"

"Erm, actually, popping in here was kind of a spur of the moment thing. I don't have a pen or paper." Hallow looked unimpressed. Thinking fast, I added, "But maybe I could record you on video with my cell phone if that's okay?"

"I suppose that will do," she replied brusquely. "Come closer—those things don't usually capture sound very well. There are a couple of spots where I'll have to put a name in. Let's pretend your vampire's name is Langford." Eric, I thought to myself. His name is Eric. Thankfully, I didn't blurt that out loud.

Positioning myself right next to the slide-out shelf, I got my phone ready to go while she watched and waited, smirking.

"Ready?" I nodded, and Hallow began reading the handwritten page, translating from Latin as she went. As she spoke her whole bearing shifted, taking on an aura of command.

"Make a stylus with some wood … taken from the victim's door." Hallow's voice seemed to resonate with a power beyond mere speech, and I suddenly realized with a chill that Hallow was a real witch.

Her intonation continued, with a pause every now and then as she worked out the translation. "On a piece of linen … inscribe a magic circle with the names of Mirael the Evil One and the victim … in the center ... Write the names of ten demons...within the circle and ... conjure the demons three times. Then...go to the victim's house and urinate in the manner of a camel ... bury the cloth while saying 'I bury you, Langford, in the name of the demons written around about you ... so that these demons may always be around you and all your power may be buried.'"

Hallow paused again to scan the page, giving me time to wonder if _she_ had caused Eric's memory loss. But why? And if that were true, why would she help me? Plus, Eric had been in New Orleans the night I found him. Hallow wasn't there, was she? Maybe I could ask Amelia. For now, she continued translating the spell.

"Then go home and inscribe the same names … on a candle. Light the candle and say 'Just as this candle, made for the destruction of Langford burns and is consumed, so may all the power and knowledge he possesses be turned to mist. May he be a stranger to himself, a stranger on the land, knowing no home.'...Repeat this procedure … over seven days and the victim will lose his senses … and memory, not even knowing where he is." I shivered involuntarily. This had to be the right spell—that specified outcome was exactly what had happened to Eric. I shivered again.

"Does it say how to undo it? I need that part too," I asked, adding, "For my story." Hallow nodded, and went on.

"If you should desire … to restore the victim to himself, go to his house and … implore the demons to depart. Then … remove the cloth and cast it into a fire, saying, 'Just as this fire consumes this cloth, so may all this craft done by me against Langford be wholly undone.'"

"As easy as that?" I asked dubiously. "Casting the spell seemed a lot more complicated."

Hallow smiled. "It's not necessary to undo every step," she explained. "Magic works by manipulating the harmony between the visible and unseen worlds. 'As above, so below' and all that. To reverse a spell, all you need to do is to restore the victim to harmony with the world of spirit." After closing the heavy book, she stroked the cover absently and regarded me with a speculative look.

"Well, thank you very much for your help," I said, stopping the video and tucking my phone back into my purse. Feeling nervous, I grinned like a monkey and babbled, "I just know I'm going to get an A on this story now."

"Oh, don't mention it," she said lightly. Nodding at the book in my hand she added, "Don't forget to pay for that."

"Right," I said, turning away. Though I didn't look at her again, I could feel Hallow's eyes following me to the cash register.

"Did you find a spell for your vampire?" Amelia asked brightly as she bagged the book I'd just bought.

"I think so. Hallow was nice enough to translate for me and let me record her on video. I think it will work just fine." I wanted to ask where Hallow had been on New Year's Eve, but she was still standing just a few yards away, watching me.

"Oh, can I see?" Amelia was eager, but a glance at the fading daylight told me I'd have to hurry to get back to Eric's house before he woke up. My stomach dropped to my shoes at the thought of seeing him. Last night had been one thing, but I had no idea how to act around him now that we'd gotten horizontal … and vertical, and perpendicular to each other. I could feel myself blushing furiously.

"I can't right now," I stammered. "It's getting late. I've got to go. Maybe I'll come back another day when I have more time."

Amelia had seen me look at the lowering sun. She was thinking about how I must be needing to get home to my vampire and wondering if he was as good in the sack as everyone said vampires were (yes) but she asked, "how about you give me your number and you can show it to me another time?"

She was thinking that she was pretty new in town and didn't know anyone besides Hallow. She liked me and thought we might share an interest in magic. She seemed nice, was definitely more interesting than anyone in Bon Temps, and I thought it could be helpful to pick her brain, so we exchanged contact information. Then I hurried to the deli next door for a few essentials to get me through the next couple of days at Eric's. Shopping took longer than it should have and it was full dark by the time I was unpacking my groceries in his kitchen.

"Sookie!" Eric burst into the kitchen half-dressed in a pair of black track pants.

"I woke up and you were … gone. I didn't know what to do." Eric rested his hands on the counter on either side of me, capturing me in the cage of his arms.

I turned around to face him. "Sorry. I lost track of time. But I think I might have a lead on what happened to you …" I said, but Eric's brows were still knitted together with worry and he interrupted me.

"I was …" Eric looked almost lost for a moment. "I missed you. I thought you had abandoned me." Puppy dog eyes on a giant Viking were disconcerting but still altogether adorable. It felt good to be needed and it was nice to see this softer, more vulnerable side of Eric. I found it easy to reassure him.

"Oh, Eric, I'm not going anywhere." I stood on my tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and smoothed his hair back. I slipped my arms around his waist with a sigh and rested my head on his bare chest. "I'm sorry. I'm not used to having someone at home waiting for me, I guess." It'd been less than a year since Gran had died, and I'd already grown accustomed to coming home to an empty house.

"Others underestimate your value," he said. I wasn't going to argue with him about that. His arms went around me and he rubbed a hand up and down my back, holding me close. "I never will."

"Thanks. That means a lot." I felt his mood shift—whether it was the energy he gave off, some magical sense, or a side-effect of his blood, I wasn't sure at this point— then he picked me up with a wicked grin and set me on the counter so my face was level with his.

"It does? How much?" he asked, leaning in for a steamy kiss. My libido went from zero to sixty in a matter of seconds.

But there wasn't much time before we were supposed to meet Pam at Fangtasia, and I was anxious to share my lead on Eric's condition. I gave into his kiss for a few moments, but when his hands started roaming, I cut it off.

"Don't you want to hear what I learned today?"

"No. I want to hear you screaming my name." Which wasn't possible just then, because he'd captured my mouth for another searing kiss. It took all my willpower not to surrender. My story could wait, and it was very tempting to forget all about the tense night full of vampire politics ahead of us, and just keep doing this all night.

"Eric," I protested, "We have to be at Fangtasia in half an hour. You've got a big night ahead, remember?" His fingers were already at work on my jeans. Where did we have to be, again?

"I am their sheriff, am I not?" he asked, grinning cockily. "They will wait." In one swift swoop, he pulled my sweater over my head, and my traitorous arms cooperated.

"Let's make it quick then." And we did.

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><p><strong>Up next: <strong>Bill's advice falls on deaf ears, the fur flies as Jessica confronts Maxine Fortenberry, and Pam's character takes a beating.


	12. Chapter 12: Yo Momma

Thanks to Charlaine Harris and Alan Ball. We're just borrowing the characters and taking them on adventures. Thanks to those who continue to read and review. It might be a little while before we get an update posted. Mo is planning on participating in National Novel Writing Month so will be focusing on that.

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><p><strong>Yo Momma<strong>_  
><em>

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><p>I searched the radio for the worst music I could find, which ended up being some rap from the nineties. Bill shot me a look, but he'd been the one to make the rule about taking turns choosing a station. If he was going to make me suffer through Chinese opera, he could listen to some Beastie Boys. I'd made the mistake of telling him I was planning to quit Merlotte's and apply at Fangtasia during the drive to work. Stupid Bill went and got all Maker on me, ordering me to keep my shitty job.<p>

"But _why_ can't I work at Fangtasia?" If he was going to let me work in a bar, why did he care which one? And he'd left me at Fangtasia himself right after he made me, so what was the problem now?

"It's way more interesting than Merlotte's. And I get to do stuff that matters." Even though it was kinda scary at times. More importantly, last night had been _way_ more fun than Merlotte's could be in a thousand years.

"Jessica, Fangtasia is not a suitable environment for you," he repeated in his maddeningly calm way.

"Why not? Sam won't let me wait tables or tend bar_,_ but Pam lets me—"

I crossed the line when I mentioned Pam. "That is the problem right there," he snapped. "Pamela is not a suitable role model for a young lady such as yourself."

"At least she treats me like a real person," I hissed through clenched teeth. "Not like a piece of furniture, or a stupid child! You never tell me anything. And why didn't you tell me I'd have to say Hoyt was 'mine'? How humiliating—and I had to find that out from Pam. At least she tells me things, even if she's not always nice about it. She's almost like a big sister would be."

"No doubt she would be deeply touched by your esteem," Bill said dryly, which kind of deflated me a little.

"Well, no. Probably not," I said. "But she treats me like a vampire. Who has a brain."

"You certainly are a vampire—a very _new_ vampire. Tell me, has she taught you anything useful about moderating your impulses?"

I just glared at him. "No." I finally admitted. Reluctantly. But neither had Bill. He wanted me to _deny_ my impulses. Big difference.

"About blending in amongst humans?" I glared at him some more. Vampires didn't have to blend in anymore. They didn't have to hide their existence. Bill was so behind the times.

"What difference does it make? _You're_ supposed to do that. You're my Maker, remember?"

"How can I forget?" He teased, but then got all serious again.

"Does she approve of your relationship with Hoyt?"

"Well … not exactly," I confessed. "She thinks it's silly. I think maybe she's never been in love, so she just doesn't understand it."

"You may well be right about that." Bill agreed, surprising me. "Pamela is over a hundred years old and so devoid of emotion that I sometimes doubt whether she was ever truly human." Judging by his tone of voice, he hadn't meant that as a compliment. "But you are a young woman and a very new vampire, who is in her very first relationship, with a _human _man. If you lose touch with your humanity—which Pam will encourage—how will you maintain your connection with Hoyt?" Luckily, we were finally turning off the highway towards Merlotte's. Even if I had to go to work, at least I'd get Bill off my back for a few hours.

"I _can _think for myself, you know." Did he think I was just going to do whatever Pam said? I'm not that stupid.

"That's what I'm afraid of," he said grimly. "Unfortunately, you don't yet have the necessary experience to temper your impulses, as the incident with that unfortunate trucker demonstrated."

"Well how can I _learn it_ when you never let me _do _anything?" I wailed.

We'd arrived at Boring Central. The parking lot was still pretty empty, but sooner or later half the town would probably show up. There weren't exactly a lot of options in Bon Temps, and Merlotte's served alcohol and was open late, making it the most popular restaurant in town.

"Come," Bill said. "I'll see you inside."

"I'd rather you didn't." I narrowed my eyes at him. I wondered if he realized how embarrassing having him walk me inside was, and did it for that reason, or really thought it was necessary.

"I can't stay, I have an appointment. But I would like to say hello to Sookie if she is here." Oh, of course he had an agenda in insisting on dropping me off at work.

I snarled, "Speaking of poor judgment …" His jaw tightened a little, but he didn't say anything, so I guess I won that round. He held the door open for me and I went in first.

There was lots of noise when the door opened but as soon as I stepped inside, it was dead silent and everyone seemed to be looking at me. A few people leaned over to whisper something to the person beside them. At the bar, Tara was mixing a drink and talking to Lafayette but when she caught sight of me, she froze and Lafayette muttered, "Oh, shit."

I was so surprised that I stopped in my tracks, and Bill walked right into me. "Jessica?" he inquired.

"Something's wrong. Everyone stopped talking as soon as they saw me," I whispered anxiously. "Do I look awful or something?" I brushed my hand over my hair just to be sure, but it was all smoothed back in a ponytail, and I when ran my tongue over my teeth, I didn't taste any leftover blood.

"No, you look lovely as always," he assured me. "Let's get out of the doorway, shall we?"

"But everyone's staring at me," I whispered. My whole life, I'd always just tried to blend in, do what I was told, and not attract attention. Being a vampire sure made that a lot more difficult.

He took me by the elbow and led me over to the bar. "Humans will do that," he replied softly, then nodded to my coworkers.

"Lafayette. Tara," he greeted them. "Is Sookie working this evening?" He sat down on one of the bar stools, making it look like he definitely planned to stay longer than just to say 'hi'.

"No," Tara practically barked. I couldn't understand how Sookie could be so friendly with someone who was always in a bad mood and had such a big chip on her shoulder. Tara turned away and finished the drink she was making. She either didn't like Bill, or she was pissed at him on Sookie's behalf; I couldn't tell which.

"It's her day off," Lafayette explained. "We ain't seen her since lunchtime yesterday." Then he narrowed his eyes and cocked his head at an odd angle and asked, "Ah, has you by any chance … heard from Hoyt yet?"

"Yet? What do you mean, yet?" I hadn't heard from Hoyt since New Year's Eve, but I wasn't stressing about it. We're in love, not joined at the hip.

"I guess you ain't heard what happened then," Lafayette shifted, looked distinctly uneasy.

"Heard what? What happened?"

"Well Hoyt, he, uh, he got hisself arrested," Laf said awkwardly. It was obvious he _really_ hated being the one to break this news to me.

"No way." Hoyt was the most law-abiding person I knew. He didn't even break the speed limit most of the time.

"Oh yeah." Tara added sarcastically and crossed her arms. "And you can thank his mama for that."

Lafayette turned on his cousin. "Bitch, can't you keep your mouf' shut for once?" By now, talk started up in the bar again, but people were still staring at me, and I could hear some making whispered bets on what I'd do next. Didn't they know how much vampires could hear?

"What for?" Tara protested. "It ain't like she won't find out—the whole town knows it!"

"Well I don't," I gritted out. "Will someone please tell me what's going on?" Bill hadn't said anything yet, but I could feel his supportive presence beside me and for once I was glad he wasn't Pam. Bill may be infuriatingly conservative, but he does care about my feelings.

"Well, ah ... " Lafayette began. "You hear 'bout dat new fangbanger law?"

"What law?" I had no idea what he was talking about, but if Hoyt had broken a law, for sure it was one he didn't know about. That didn't count, did it?

"I think Lafayette might be referring to the 'Consorting with Dangerous Vampires Act'," Bill suggested.

"Yeah, that be the one," Lafayette confirmed.

"Consorting with … what the hell are you talking about?" I looked at both of them for an explanation.

"It is a law designed to prey on human fear of our kind," Bill explained. "It allows family members to have a relative committed for psychiatric evaluation for consorting with vampires."

"What does that have to do with Hoyt?" I was confused. "He doesn't 'consort with vampires' and he's not a fangbanger. He never even goes to Fangtasia unless he's with me. Hoyt's about as average as average gets."

"Yeah, well his mama don't see it that way," Tara put in. "She was in here yesterday complainin' how she practically had to force Andy Bellefleur to arrest Hoyt, to save him from you."

I literally saw red as I began to understand what they were saying. I guess it was the moment everyone had been waiting for, because the bar was silent again and all eyes were fixed on me.

"I'll rip her fucking face off!" I was ready to storm out the door and have it out with her, but Bill grabbed me by the arms before I could move.

"Jessica, calm down," he began.

"That fucking cow is trying to break us up," I cried.

"Impulse control," he reminded me. "Judgment. You must learn to think before you act."

"I'll kill her," I growled.

"No," he said firmly. "You most definitely will not kill her. As your Maker, I command you."

"You're just going to let her _get away with this?_" I demanded. "How could you?" Dammit! I was so mad I was on the verge of tears but I managed to blink them back. Crying always got gross in a hurry.

"Jessica." Bill's voice was urgent. "This is a law enforcement matter between Hoyt and his mother. It's best you don't get involved."

"But Hoyt isn't crazy and he isn't a criminal. He just loves me," I protested. "I'm not a 'dangerous vampire'. How can you say this is alright?" People in the bar were now elbowing each other and snickering as they stared, but I didn't care anymore. I tried to shake loose of Bill's grip but he held on tight, scolding as I struggled to escape.

"Jessica. Jessica, calm yourself." He shook me a little and then pulled me into a hug. Wrapping one arm around me, he produced a handkerchief and I grabbed it, just in case the tears started flowing.

"As I understand this new law, they can only hold him for three days," he went on. "If he was arrested yesterday morning, almost two full days have already passed. The wisest thing for you to do would be to wait for him to return home. Then you can both speak to his mother together, if he wants that."

"Dat sound like good advice, baby girl," Lafayette agreed.

"I'm not a baby!" I snapped, sniffling. I wished he'd save his comments for himself. Lafayette could be okay most of the time, but I didn't need him chiming in on this.

"Ex-cuuuuze me," Lafayette drawled. "Dat sound like good advice, _beyotch._" Tara smacked him with a bar towel.

"Maybe you're right," I sighed, and Bill relaxed his hold. "Did they at least say where they took him?"

"Some Fellowship of the Sun place in Clarice," Tara piped up. "Recover The Light or some shit like that."

Even Bill looked faintly alarmed when he heard that. I turned back to him, pleading. "Please, we have to get him out of there. Those people are crazy."

"Jessica, we cannot," he insisted. "For one thing, it may be a trap—"

I cut him off. "If you won't help me, I'm calling Pam," I said fiercely. "She'll know what to do."

"For another," Bill continued, "You have an obligation to Sam to work your shift tonight. And I have pressing business elsewhere. We cannot do this tonight, and by tomorrow Hoyt should be home again."

"Fucking Sam," I muttered darkly. "Trust me, he wouldn't notice if I left."

"Jessica, you wanted to learn better judgment—this is your opportunity," Bill said firmly. "Now, I must leave you but I will be back when your shift is over. I expect to find you here when I return."

"But—"

"Do I need to make it a command?" I could see he would, and I'd really be stuck here if he did that, so I backed down.

"No," I said, I crossed my fingers behind my back, a habit I'd had since childhood.

"That's better," he said encouragingly. "Now I must go, but I will see you later. Try to remain calm. I know it's hard, but you can do it." With that, he kissed my forehead and left.

As soon as Bill was out the door, a stampede of square dancers came in, big skirts and hats and all. Apparently there was some competition in town. Choir practice at the Baptist church let out at the same time and the singers all decided to head on over to Merlotte's, so we were swamped. It was a half an hour before I got everyone seated and had a chance to call Pam.

"Fangtasia, the bar with a bite," Pam's bored monotone was beyond corny, but tourists seemed to eat it up.

"Pam. It's Jessica—" I began.

"What do you want, cupcake? I'm busy tonight," she cut in. Wow, she was all charm. No wonder she didn't understand love.

"I need you to help me rescue Hoyt." I whispered urgently, looking around to make sure none of my co-workers were listening in.

"Who?"

"Hoyt. My boyfriend. You met him on New Year's Eve," I said impatiently.

"Oh, right. The tree in the plaid shirt. What have you done with him?"

"Not me, it's his mother. She had him kidnapped by the Fellowship of the Sun and I need you to help me rescue him." There was a long, _long _ silence and I began to wonder if the connection had been dropped. "Pam?"

"You've got to be joking," she said at last. "You want me to drop everything and help you rescue Horace from _his mother?_ Have you lost your mind?"

"Hoyt. It's Hoyt," I reminded her.

"Whatever."

"And it's not his mother. She had him arrested and taken to some psychiatric place owned by the Fellowship of the Sun. Apparently there's this new law where she can do that?"

"Yes, I heard about that," Pam said dryly. "Another win for the lunatic right wing."

"Does that mean you'll help me?"

"What does your Maker think about this?" Now why would she ask that? I knew Pam didn't think much of Bill as a Maker. "Well?" she prodded.

"_Bill_ says it's between Hoyt and his mother, and I should stay out of it—"

"You should listen to your Maker. Gotta run. We'll talk another time." And she hung up. Shit.

Just as I was about to turn around and go back into the dining room, I almost ran smack dab into Arlene, who gave me a mean stink-eye. "Hey, we know you got problems. We all got problems. I nearly married a serial killer. I oughta be at home makin' sure Lisa ain't tryin' to give Coby a homemade tattoo. But I got to work just the same as you do. You're not getting paid to make phone calls." God, she could be such a bitch. She was always on the phone!

One of the busboys had called in sick, so I got stuck running dishes back to the kitchen and wiping off booths. Handling food was _not _my idea of fun, since most of it turned my stomach now, and half-eaten greasy Merlotte's leftovers were even grosser than regular food. It'd be a lot better to work at Fangtasia precisely because they only served drinks. Everyone that worked here had a bad attitude about vampires in general, except for Sookie, and she hardly ever even came to work any more.

All through the rest of my shift, I was busy busing dirty dishes, putting clean ones away, hauling garbage and seating customers. I hated having to stay here when Hoyt was stuck God knows where, but without help from Bill or Pam, what I could I really do about it? The only other person I could think of who might be willing to help me find him was Sookie, but when I called her it went straight to her answering machine.

I just couldn't believe that Hoyt's own mother would do such a thing. What was she thinking, anyway? As I thought about that, I realized it must've been because she didn't like _me._ But she didn't really _know_ me—all she really knew was that I was a vampire. We hadn't met but that one time. But Hoyt and I had been dating for a while now—long enough that she must have realized that I wasn't going to hurt him, right?

The longer I thought about it, the more it seemed like if I could get Mrs. Fortenberry to see that I wasn't such a bad person, maybe she'd call the whole thing off and Hoyt could come home. I made up my mind to go see her as soon as my shift was over.

The rush slowly died down and when midnight came I was glad to punch out. Merlotte's was open till 1:30,but didn't need a hostess that late because so few new customers came in after midnight. I always brought a change of clothes with me in case Hoyt wanted to do something after work, so I got changed and took a seat to wait for Bill.

When he hadn't arrived by 12:30, I realized that he might not know I finished at 12, since if Hoyt wasn't picking me up I usually caught a ride with Sookie. Bill probably thought I finished at 1:30 with the waitresses. That meant … if I hurried, I could go talk to Mrs. Fortenberry and be back by the time he got here. And maybe by then I wouldn't need his help anymore!

I left Merlotte's in a hurry and ran as fast as I could to the Fortenberry house on the other side of town. The street was quiet, but there were still some lights on inside the house, so I was pretty sure Mrs. Fortenberry hadn't gone to bed yet. Before knocking on the door, I brushed my hair and touched up my lip-gloss. I wanted to make the best impression I could.

I ran up the steps and knocked politely. The door opened after a short delay, revealing Mrs. Fortenberry in a gaudy flowered house dress, her hair done up in pink foam curlers the size of beer cans and her face plastered in a thick layer of face cream. As soon as she realized who was at her door, her face screwed up in a nasty sneer that put little cracks in her mask.

"What are you doing here so late at night?" she snapped. "Don't you have any manners?" I reminded myself to stay calm. After all, I'd come here to try to win her over.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you, Miz Fortenberry. I just got off work and when I saw your lights were on, I thought it might be okay to knock." I tried to look ladylike, and used my best manners.

"Are you lookin' for Hoyt? 'Cause if you are, he ain't here." She squinted at me maliciously through a mess of green goo.

"I know that. Actually, I haven't heard from him since New Year's Eve. And he hasn't been answerin' his cell phone. I was hopin' you could tell me where to find him." That seemed like a nice way to ease into the subject.

"Well, I'm sure I don't know why he hasn't called, but maybe he's up and got himself a _human_ girlfriend. All to the good, I'd say." She looked me up and down. "Lord knows what's gotten into him, gettin' tangled up with the likes of you. I raised him better than that."

Did that hateful bitch just say she was better than me? "Is that why you had him kidnapped?" I spat back.

She drew herself up indignantly. "I did no such thing."

"Don't piss on my leg and tell me it's rainin'! The whole town's talking about it," I yelled. "I had to hear it at Merlotte's!"

"I only did what every caring mother should do," she sniffed. "At least I have his best interests in mind, which is more than I can say for you."

"Where did you send him, you ignorant redneck?" She gasped in outrage and began shaking a fleshy fist and shouting.

"Just you never mind, you red-headed devil. It'll be a cold day in hell before you set eyes on my Hoyt again!" That's when I lost it. I was so mad that my fangs popped out and I wanted to rip those stupid curlers right out of her head. But she was standing too far inside the doorway and I couldn't quite reach. It was probably a good thing I'd never been invited in, 'cause I probably would've killed her and Hoyt wouldn't like that.

"It's you that needs their head examined, not Hoyt! Where is he?" I screamed.

"He's gone," she hissed. "And he's gonna stay gone till he comes to his senses, so you just get off my porch, Missy."

"You are the meanest person God ever put breath in and cold as a frog's behind, Maxine Fortenberry," I cried. "How could you do such a thing to your own flesh and blood?"

"To keep him away from people like _you,_ that's how."

"I'll find him, and when I do, you'll be sorry!" I growled ferociously.

"There ain't nothin' goes over the devil's back but what it don't come up his front," she sniffed self-righteously and slammed the door in my face.

"Bitch!" I screamed, pounding on the door. "You better not show your face after dark ever again!" The lights went off inside, and I could hear her moving to the back of the house. "I'll find him if it takes ten years!" I pounded for a while longer, but there were no more sounds from inside the house. I hadn't gotten any information on where to find Hoyt and I needed to get back to Merlotte's before Bill arrived to pick me up. I was beyond discouraged.

I tried calling Sookie again, but all I got was her answering machine. Where was she, anyway? I couldn't just leave Hoyt in the Fellowship's nasty clutches, but I was running out of options. Feeling desperate, I decided to give Pam another shot. She'd said she was busy earlier, but maybe things had slowed down a bit since then?

"Fangtasia, how may I serve you?" The voice sounded like Hector, the bouncer from Fangtasia's New Year's Eve party.

"Hector? It's Jessica. Is Pam there?"

"Yes, she is." He offered no more information than that. Some vampires were so literal-minded I wondered how they managed to function. Or maybe he was just being a jerk. Hector seemed to like having power over other people.

"Well can I talk to her? It's urgent." When he put down the phone, he didn't put it on hold and the background noise—thumping bass music, a roar of chatter and the sounds of clinking glass and bar ware—told me Fangtasia was still busy. A minute or so later, Pam picked up.

"Jessica," she cooed. "Long time, no hear. What is it this time?"

"Pam, I really, _really _ need your help with Hoyt."

"What part of 'I'm busy' do you not understand?"

"Please, Pam." I was willing to beg if that's what it took. "Hoyt's been taken to some anti-vampire brainwashing clinic, and I don't know what to do."

"Why don't you just leave him there and have some fun for a change?" Her tone said she thought Hoyt couldn't possibly be any fun.

"Look, I know you don't get it. But this is important to me and you're the only one I know who even _might _be able to help."

"Did you try talking to his mother?"

"Of course I did. But she won't tell me anything. She's the one who put him there. And she hates me."

"Did you happen to think of glamouring her?" I groaned. I hadn't thought of that, and there was no way she'd open the door for me again tonight. Or probably any other night.

"Of course you didn't," she said, sighing dramatically. "Babies. Do you even know how to glamour someone yet?"

"Of course I do. Bill taught me that a long time ago. I just didn't think of it." I was kicking myself for that. It would have been so much easier!

"This human of yours, did you at least give him your blood?"

"No. Why would I do that?"

"Well for one thing, other vampires would smell you on him and know he's yours."

"That would've be fine at Fangtasia, but he's not there now." Couldn't she say anything helpful? Then she dropped a bomb on me.

"You'd also be able to track him, and tell how he's feeling."

"_Why doesn't anyone tell me these things until it's too late?"_ I wailed. Pam tittered sarcastically; I hate it when she makes fun of me.

"That's what your Maker is for. Speaking of, does he know you're calling me?" Pam sounded suspicious.

"_No,_" I said. If she only knew what Bill thought of her. "_Bill_ thinks I shouldn't get involved. And—" Suddenly I realized that there _was _something I could say that might change her mind.

"And?" I could just see her foot tapping impatiently and had to bite my lip to keep from giggling. I'd noticed that Pam and Bill would each try to discourage me from accepting the other one's ideas, just on principle. Like, I'd mention that Bill thought I should hold on to my humanity, so then Pam would tell me how a real vampire acts. Or I'd tell Bill that Pam thought dating humans was stupid, and he'd tell me it was important to follow my heart. They were always trying to one-up the each other. It was as predictable as hits in a tennis match, so I was pretty sure Pam would swing if I lobbed the right ball.

"And … he thinks you're a bad influence. On me." If I had breath I would've held it, waiting to see if she would bite.

"Oh _really_," she said scornfully. "Does he think I'm contagious?" I did a little happy dance—it was working!

"OK," she said with a sigh. "Here's what we're going to do..."

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><p><strong>Up next:<strong> Pam coaches Eric on the finer points of vampire PR, Sookie finds evidence of witchcraft, Bill follows his nose, and Smoking Frog's observations prove enlightening.


	13. Chapter 13: Looking Out for Number One

Characters belong to Charlaine Harris and Alan Ball. Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

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><p><strong>Looking Out for Number One<strong>

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><p>"Listen to your Maker, honeybun. Gotta run. We'll talk another time." I cut the connection abruptly. How the hell did Jessica get the idea that I cared what happened to her pet? Tonight especially. It was Area 5's check-in night and the first time in several days Eric would be seen at Fangtasia. Though he was totally nonchalant about the entire ordeal, I was worried. In his current state, these normally simple and routine tasks were anything but.<p>

"How nice of you to show up," I said as he strolled in on Sookie's arm, dressed like an Jersey mobster in track suit, no shirt underneath. They smelled like sex, and worse, they couldn't take their eyes off each other for long enough to walk in a straight line. Talk about sappy.

"Sorry," Sookie started to apologize, but Eric cut her off.

"We're here now." At least he was showing some backbone, but it was still going to take a miracle to get through tonight without blowing his cover.

"Sookie, go chat with Ginger for awhile. Eric needs to change his clothes, and I don't trust you two to keep your hands to yourselves. Also, I need his full attention. We have an image to maintain, and you're distracting him."

"Geesh, Pam!" Sookie was obviously embarrassed. I was pleased that teasing her about Eric was as much fun as ever now that they were actually fucking.

"I'll be okay, Sookie. He smiled down at her as he released her hand. "I do find you …" He looked her up and down with hungry eyes. "... distracting."

"Fine. Pam can get you ready for vampire business. I've got a book to read." She scurried out into the bar. I went to Eric's small closet and pulled a pair of jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket. If Eric was going to play his intimidating self tonight, loungewear and flip-flops weren't going to cut it. Normal Eric could be cool and menacing in any outfit, but tonight, we couldn't afford to take any chances.

He didn't seem the least bit anxious about getting through the night. I wasn't sure whether that was good or bad. At least he wasn't arguing with me about changing. By the time he'd finished lacing up his boots, I'd given him a run down of the evening's schedule.

"After we get through this, we'll get to work on getting you back to normal and making whoever attacked you pay for what they did." And then I realized that was the wrong thing to say.

"What if I don't want to be _normal_? Apparently I'm a cruel, arrogant bastard who cares for nothing but myself."

"No. Not only are you one of the oldest and strongest vampires in America, you're also one of the most cunning and ruthless. You don't take shit from anyone and you don't get in a fight you can't win." Eric looked strangely introspective, but then he shook his head and smoothed his freshly combed hair. Standing up to his full height, he slid into his black leather jacket, completing his trademark badass look. Now if we could only get his demeanor to match.

"I might not know who I am, but I'm not stupid. I can figure this out. I don't even know you and I can tell you worry too much."

I ignored that comment. He could lecture me about worrying too much when his mind was sound enough to carry some of the burden.

Before I sent him out to the bar, I reminded him that he had to deal with the Petros, the vampire who'd made a scene at Fangtasia on New Year's Eve.

"How can I pass judgment on him when I don't even know what happened?" he asked. I explained to him that Petros was a liar and cheat, and had been banned from Fangtasia for repeatedly threatening a member of Eric's retinue. Then I suggested calling Thalia to act as a witness, since she'd been here that night. Eric was initially skeptical, but I assured him that he trusted Thalia. At least he believed me enough to take my word for it—that was progress.

"So, are you ready to enthrall the humans?" He just smirked at me.

"Yeah, I think I can handle it. Sit around, look bored. Glare," Eric was teasing me, I realized. The familiar simper was as comforting as it was annoying. "Relax, Pam. I've got this."

Despite Eric's assurances, I couldn't hold back a few last minute reminders. "Don't talk to anyone if you can help it. The staff, customers, anyone. And when the reporter gets here, stick to vague answers. She'll mainly focus on the Waldo incident, so Sookie can sit with you in case you need help with those questions." His smile widened at that, and I wondered if that might be too distracting. He'd been fixated on Sookie before his memory loss; now he seemed to be attached to her hip. At least he could use that to his advantage. "Just keep us on message as far as humans and vampires cooperating. That's all the AVL wants."

"Do I look all right?" Eric asked as he ran his hand through his hair one last time.

"You look exactly like the badass vampire I know you are."

"On with the show then. I have other plans for later tonight." He pushed through his office door and out to the bar, in search of Sookie, no doubt.

We'd been open an hour or so when the reporter showed up, cutting to the front of the line and flashing her press badge.

"Hi, I'm Shelley Gisborne with the Shreveport _Inquisitor._ I have an appointment to interview Eric Northman tonight."

"So you do," I agreed. I put a bouncer on the door and escorted her into the club. She looked around, wide-eyed. "Wow," she said. Then she spotted Eric lounging on his elevated throne. "WOW!" she said again, with more enthusiasm. "Is that?"

"Who you think it is," I finished dryly. She gaped. At my signal Eric got up and went to join Sookie, who'd been watching from his private booth when she wasn't thumbing through a book. I led Shelley over to meet them.

"Showtime, kids," I said, winking at Sookie. "Reporter's here. Eric Northman, this is Shelley Gisborne from _The Inquisitor._ Shelley, this is Eric and his … assistant, Sookie." The reporter sat down and I retreated out of sight, but made sure to stay within earshot.

"So, Mr. Northman, you're quite the local hero," the reporter began. "Apprehending a serial killer single-handed. Tell me about that."

Eric told the story that Sookie and I had fed him, answering the reporter's simple questions with ease. All was going well until Ms. Gisborne ventured off topic.

"So Sookie, what's it like being the vampire's assistant? Anything personal going on between you two?"

Sookie began stammering, at which point Eric declared, "She is mine."

"Oh, an office romance!" the reporter squealed. "Tell me everything!"

Fuck. No matter what happened between them when he got his memories back, I was certain Eric wouldn't want their connection widely known. I zoomed over to bail him out.

Sookie was stumbling through half starts of words, obviously not sure how to react to that. "What he means is, Sookie is his personal assistant. Time's up," I said brightly. "I hope you got what you needed—Mr. Northman has another appointment."

"But I wanted to take a few photos," the newshound protested. "That's what people really want more than the articles. My editor won't do a feature without photos."

"No photos," I said shortly. "House rule."

"Well, it was nice to meet you both," Ms. Gisborne said. "Thank you for your time. The story should be out next week. Happy New Year, y'all."

"Happy New Year to you too," Sookie replied. I pointed the reporter toward the bar and invited her to have a drink on the house. Hopefully no serious damage had been done.

"Alright. Now, next item on the agenda is dealing with Petros the troublemaker."

Sookie grimaced at the mention of the prisoner, her face scrunching up unattractively. "I'll let you help him with that one, Pam. I've had enough of vampire politics. At least for one night."

"Fine." Maybe then Eric could concentrate on business.

"You're sure … you'll be okay?" Eric asked, reluctant to leave Sookie.

"I've got my book. I'm good." She gave him a reassuring smile.

"I'll be done soon … and then …" Eric leaned down and kissed Sookie's ear, whispering something that made her blush.

"Then, we'll deal with the check-in of visiting vampires," I cut in. "They're due to arrive at 11 pm. So if we want to be done with Petros before then, we better get a move on. Especially if there's going to be paperwork. Something tells me you don't remember how to fill out an incident report."

"And then, it will finally be time for us." Eric winked at Sookie, and I wondered how many times I could roll my eyes in a single evening without getting them stuck in that position.

Eric followed me down to the basement cell where Thalia and I had locked up Petros a few nights ago. As we descended, the club's bright lights and thumping bass music were overtaken by dank gloom and the rhythm of our prisoner banging on his cell.

"So Petros, Pam here tells me you broke the rules. I'm not a fan of rule-breakers," Eric said lightly. He leaned against the wall and put his hands in his pockets. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Petros just mumbled unintelligibly through his gag.

"Not much of a defense, now is it?" Eric's chuckle was chilling. His sheriff act was coming quite naturally and he seemed to be enjoying himself.

"Thalia witnessed the incident. Perhaps you'd like to hear what she has to say?" Eric nodded, and I pulled my phone out of where it was tucked into the waist of my vinyl skirt.

"Thalia? It's me. Just wondering if you could spare a moment to tell Eric what you witnessed here on New Year's Eve?"

I handed Eric the phone. He greeted his fellow sheriff like an old friend, arousing no suspicion. Thalia gave a quick recap of how Petros had snuck in, threatened Chow, and made such a scene in front of humans that she'd had to taser him.

"And how do you punish such transgressions in your area?" Eric asked, as if he were seeking the professional courtesy of a colleague's counsel. It was a good cover for the fact that in reality he had no idea what protocol, custom or his own precedent demanded.

"I'd chop off his hand," Thalia said dryly. "But you know I tend to be old-school." I heard her laugh. Petros heard it too and began whimpering in his cell.

"I'll take it under consideration. Thank you for assisting my child while I was away."

"No problem. Any excuse to hang out with Pam and avoid the queen's parties."

Eric handed me back the phone, and turned his attention on the Greek vampire. "Pam, fetch me a blade." I darted into Eric's secured resting place behind the stairs and grabbed a switchblade for him.

"We can do this the honorable way or you can be a coward, but either way, you _will_ be punished. Your choice." Eric let himself into the small cell, where Petros had scrabbled into a one corner in the vain hope of escape.

"Your way it is. Pam, hold him." I restrained the prisoner's shoulders, and Eric grabbed his stringy hair, forcing his head to one side and slicing off his left ear. I stepped back to avoid getting blood on my suede boots. "That will teach you to listen to orders from your superiors, Petros."

We re-secured the prisoner and went back upstairs. "After closing, dump him at the border. If he's spotted in Area 5 again, I'll kill him," Eric ordered.

I wiped my hands on a towel. "You handled that well, Eric. Very suitable punishment."

"I could get used to this sheriff business," he said, preening in the office mirror as he checked his hair for blood. I gasped a little. Just for a moment, he was his real self again. "And now," he announced, "I will claim my reward."

Eric emerged triumphantly from the office and walked directly to Sookie, where she was still engrossed in her book.

"Dance with me," he said, though the dance floor was near empty at the moment.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea …" I heard her say, and I had to agree. It was definitely not something normal Eric would ever deign to do.

"But I'm the boss," he said, flashing her his best sexy smirk.

"You're not the boss of me," Sookie sassed back at him.

"Dance with me, Sookie."

"I told you, glamour doesn't work on me," she replied, winking. But she didn't protest when he pulled her toward the center of the club and started swaying to the music.

After a few minutes it was clear why Sookie hadn't needed much convincing; she was a natural. Her limbs moved with an elegance and grace I didn't realize she possessed. She moved against and around and truly _with_ Eric. Despite their size difference, they had a rhythm that worked. Their chemistry was palpable, and most patrons had taken notice and were enthralled with the scene.

Eric seemed displeased when the song changed from the slow, sensual beat to a quicker tempo, one that required more than pressing his body against Sookie and swaying back and forth. But Sookie was a natural dancer and he followed her lead. By the time _Dancing in the Dark_ had faded into _Why Can't This Be Love_, they were spinning around, laughing, lost in their own little world. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen such a genuinely happy smile on Eric's face.

"Pam." There was a polite cough at my elbow. I turned to see Bill Compton with a laptop bag on his shoulder. At his side were another vampire, a tiny, wizened brown man in faded blue clothing and an odd straw hat.

"Bill," I cooed. "Here for check in?"

"Yes. Is Eric available?"

"Oh, he will be. He's occupied at the moment though." I waved toward the dance floor just as the song ended Eric dipped Sookie back, then laid a soft kiss on her throat. You could feel the collective gasp as everyone in the bar watched. When Sookie looked up to see all the eyes on her, all the blood ran to her face, and she quickly stood upright and led Eric through the crowd. She was so intent on avoiding dirty looks from other humans that she didn't see Bill until she'd walked right into him. Bill didn't look pleased to see her at all. At least not with Eric.

"Sookeh, why are you dancing with _Eric?_ And why is he kissing you?" Bill's angry drawl carried over the loud music, prompting Eric to put his arm around Sookie and hold her close, glaring at Bill. Some things obviously hadn't changed.

"Bill!" Sookie squeaked. "What are you doing here?"

"I might ask you the same thing. What kind of trouble has Eric dragged you into now?" He glared at Eric, and Sookie shot me an anxious look. I winked back. This was going to be funny.

"It's not like that," Sookie said, floundering. "I'm just ... helping out … " Sookie's answer trailed off and she looked wildly to me for help.

"Bill's here for check-in," I said dryly, nodding my head toward the strange new vampire. "It seems he has a visitor." Said visitor had been watching Bill and Sookie's interaction closely, his sharp eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them and Eric.

"Yes," Bill drawled. "This is the friend I wrote you about. We are here to introduce him to Sheriff Northman."

"What friend? You never wrote me about any friends," Sookie asked. It was quite amusing to see her so flustered.

"It was in my postcard from Guatemala," Bill reminded her stiffly.

"You remember that don't you Sookie?" I said coyly. "It was the one that said he was looking forward to your … reunion. You got it the night Janetta attacked you for dumping such a 'fine and tragic man'." I chortled at the memory. "It's always so entertaining when you visit us. You really must come more often. I'm sure Eric agrees."

Sookie flushed at that and Bill looked even more uncomfortable. Watching him trying to maintain his dignity instead of sparring with Eric was just too much fun. I glanced at the visitor, whose canny black eyes twinkled as they met mine, and we smiled at each other in silent acknowledgement of the obvious love triangle. I liked him already, despite his odd appearance and the fact that he was a friend of Bill's.

"Let's all go back to Eric's office, shall we?" I suggested.

Eric settled behind his desk, aloof and inscrutable as Bill and his guest entered. Sookie trailed behind, biting her lip and looking anxious as she took a seat on the leather sofa. Eric had been credible enough during the news interview and discipline hearing, but neither of the those involved people that actually knew him. Bill, on the other hand, knew Eric well. If he detected something amiss, there was at least an even chance he'd report it to the queen.

"So … Bill?" Eric said his name with a rising inflection. Not good. "You have a guest to register with me?"

"Yes, Sheriff. May I present my friend Smoking Frog, who has recently arrived from Guatemala? With your permission, he will be staying with me for a short time." I choked back a laugh. _Smoking Frog?_ What kind of name was that?

"No other business?" Eric's question was directed at the visitor.

"None planned, sir," Smoking Frog replied deferentially.

"Where do you plan to stay?" Eric was asking good questions in an appropriate tone of voice, and I nodded to encourage him.

"With Señor Compton, sir."

"And you are leaving when?"

"Within a week. Two at most."

"I see. And going where?"

"Returning to my home, sir." The little man spoke with great dignity. Sometimes older vampires had a problem respecting the power of younger authority figures. I was glad Bill's friend didn't seem to have that problem. We certainly didn't need any more of those.

"Excellent. Permission granted. Make sure you report any change of plans." And that was that. Sookie and I shared a relieved glance, happy that Eric had gotten through another important test without blowing his cover.

"One more thing Eric," Bill said, dropping the shoulder bag on his desk. "You left this in New Orleans. I took the liberty of retrieving it for you." Eric looked at me for guidance. I shrugged.

He cautiously opened the bag and lifted out ... his own laptop computer. I recognized it immediately, having used it often to update our accounting records.

"Is this a gift?" Eric asked. Sookie groaned. With that simple question, our carefully crafted charade fell apart. Bill gaped at Eric in astonishment.

Well, shit.

Bill's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Eric, that is your laptop. You left it in the limousine in New Orleans. Do you not recognize it?"

Eric shook his head, realizing he'd made a mistake and blown his cover. "Pam?" He was lost again, which Bill did not fail to observe. Damn.

"Yes," I sighed. "That's your personal laptop."

"Well then," Eric said assertively. "Thank you for returning it. You are dismissed." He stood up, but neither Bill nor Smoking Frog made any move to leave.

"What is going on here?" Bill demanded, turning rapidly from one face to another. "Pam? Sookie? Why does Eric not know his own laptop? Eric?"

Pinned under Bill's questioning gaze, Eric lost his air of confidence. The three of us stood there looking from one to the other, wondering how much to say.

"Eric … has not been himself lately," I ventured cautiously.

"You can't mention this to _anyone._" Sookie's tone was sharp as she hurried to stand protectively in front of Eric. "If you do, we'll all be in danger." Smoking Frog's eyes glinted with amusement at the sight of one little human attempting to guard one vampire against two others. It _was _ kind of silly, but Sookie was fearless.

"Of course not," Bill assured her. "What has happened?" I wondered if Bill could really be trusted. Though he lived in Area 5, he was technically here on assignment for the queen. His loyalty would be divided at best, and he might feel obliged to report Eric's condition to New Orleans. If that happened, it was only a matter of time until word leaked out to Eric's enemies.

"If we tell you, how can we be sure you'll keep it to yourself?" I asked sharply. I would kill Bill—and his friend—before I'd let him endanger my maker.

"Eric and I may have our … personal differences," Bill said, glancing at Sookie, who was not only guarding Eric, but had reached back to hold his hand. "It is well known where Louisiana's true strength lies. I have no taste for anarchy or war. I give you my word that whatever you tell me will remain between us."

"What about your friend?" I knew nothing about this Smoking Frog character, or what his agenda might be. What if he was a spy, on the lookout for weakened territories prime for takeover?

"You may depend upon my discretion," the little vamp said, bowing modestly. "I would not dream of dishonoring your trust." Well, he'd say that if he were a spy too, wouldn't he?

"I don't like this," I said, still extremely uncomfortable about revealing Eric's condition to any other vampires. "Give me one good reason not to chain you up in the basement until we get this resolved."

"Pam, no!" Sookie looked horrified. "Maybe they can help us. God knows we're not getting anywhere on our own."

"That might be a challenge in any case," added Bill. "Between us, Smoking Frog and I have about 700 years on you and Eric." I just raised one eyebrow. Let them think I had reinforcements handy.

"It's nothing a couple of silver nets can't fix," I snapped. The fewer people walking around with knowledge of Eric's condition, the safer he was. But Sookie jumped to Bill's defense.

"Pam, Bill might not be my favorite person right now, but I think we can trust him. He was there for you when those hicks attacked you at Merlotte's. He wouldn't offer to help if he wasn't willing. And it's not like we have a lot of options." If Sookie was willing to go out on this limb despite everything that had passed between her and Bill, perhaps it was worth considering. And Eric seemed to want to go along with whatever she said, even though I was his child. I glared at her, trying to decide.

Smoking Frog spoke up then. "Come, share your story. Perhaps we can help," he said soothingly.

"What did you mean, Eric is not himself lately?" Bill prodded. Sookie and I continued eyeing each other, while Eric seemed to be waiting on Sookie's call.

"There's no way to hide it," she said with a sigh. "Not anymore. You might as well tell them." So I explained, unwillingly.

"He doesn't remember anything about himself. We've tried to jog his memory, but so far it's not working. Except for the past two nights, he's a blank slate." Smoking Frog's black eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

"When did this happen? Was his head injured? " Bill asked. "He was fine on New Year's Eve. For the most part."

"No, he wasn't," Sookie argued. "I found him running down my road around 2:30 in the morning, with no shirt on and covered in blood. He'd called earlier to tell me he was going to stop by, but he didn't recognize me. He didn't even know his own name. He had no idea where he was or why he was all bloody. How is that fine?"

Bill backtracked. "I meant he was quite normal for most of the evening. I last saw him just after midnight that night, outside the queen's residence. He'd been attacked and was bleeding from a deep stab wound, but would not say what happened. I brought him a donor and as I said, he appeared fine—and fully healed—when he left."

"Do you know who attacked him?" Sookie asked.

"No, I do not. Eric refused to tell me and said only that it was personal. There was no uncertainty in his voice."

"Eric doesn't do personal," I objected, then glanced at Sookie. "Until recently."

"I know," Bill agreed. "I wanted to ask more, but he flew off immediately after feeding. But his mind was intact."

Smoking Frog chimed in. "What is the last thing you remember?" he asked Eric. The little vamp's voice was hypnotic and ethereal, like smoke rising from incense.

"It was a beautiful night. I was flying. It felt like I was definitely going _somewhere_, but then I was lost," Eric replied. "I landed to look for directions, and then Sookie found me and took me in." He looked down at Sookie as if she was an angel, and she turned to nestle into his side, smiling up at him affectionately. Gag me already.

"Did you stop somewhere between leaving me and finding Sookie?" Bill asked, his voice strained, but without any other response to the lovebirds.

"I don't know." Eric shrugged, looking lost. "I could have. But I don't remember. I don't remember seeing you before tonight. I don't remember anything before Sookie."

He hadn't come back to Fangtasia, and I said so.

"This smells of magic," Smoking Frog declared.

"That's what Claudine said!" Sookie sounded excited, but I was shocked—and angry.

"You told someone?" I snarled, lunging at her. "Eric trusted you! _I_ trusted you!" Sookie shrank back, and Eric appeared shocked at this revelation.

"I didn't give her any details!" Sookie quavered.

"Who is Claudine?" Bill asked. Good question.

"She … she says she's my fairy godmother." Fuck. That last thing we needed was fucking fairies getting involved. Eric had led me to believe Sookie didn't even realize she was part-fairy, so this little revelation was definitely surprising.

"You told a _fairy_ about Eric's weakness?" I _knew _ I should have killed her when I found her with Eric. Fairies are notoriously vicious and given the chance to take down a vampire, most would not hesitate. So much for trusting a human! I bared my fangs, ready to strike.

"Pam! Let her explain," Eric commanded, though he too looked angry. Sookie gathered her wits and started talking.

"Claudine invited me to lunch today out of the blue, which she only ever does if she knows I'm in some kind of trouble. I was looking on the Internet for information on vampire amnesia, but couldn't find anything. Claudine's a supe, so I thought she might know something useful. I didn't give her any details, I swear!" Sookie's tone was desperately urgent and I hoped she regretted hiding things from me now.

"I told Eric about Claudine visiting on Christmas," she said, looking at him. "I know you don't remember that night but …" She trailed off, a hint of sadness in her eyes. Eric had been moody all week after that incident, so I'd known something had passed between them, but he hadn't mentioned anything about Sookie having fairy friends.

"She is being truthful. I feel it," Eric said, drawing Sookie back into his arms.

"As do I," Bill added. Eric's gaze locked on Bill. He growled, fangs dropping as if daring Bill to challenge him. Smoking Frog watched all this with interest, and Bill had the good sense to look away.

"Well that's good to know," I said, standing down. "For a minute there I thought I was going to have to kill you." Both Eric and Bill hissed at me, fangs fully exposed. I laughed.

"Stop that, both of you!" Sookie said. I had to give her credit for courage. Few humans would have remained calm when faced with several vampires in attack mode.

"Anyway," she continued, "Claudine said the amnesia had to be due to some kind of magic, but she didn't know what kind. After we had lunch, I went to get some groceries. There was a magic shop right next door, so I went in to see if they might know anything. And I found something that might be important." Still talking, she pawed through her purse for something that seemed to be buried at the bottom.

"There was a witch there named Hallow, who had a bunch of really old spell books—like, hundreds of years old. I told her I was writing a story and needed to know if there was a spell that could make vampires lose their memories. And she found one and translated it for me. I recorded her on my cell phone." She held the device up triumphantly.

"And you're just now mentioning this?"

"I took so long at the shop I was running late to get back to Eric's before dark, and then we had to get here, and you've both been busy all night. I haven't had a chance!" Of course not—she was too busy banging Eric and grinding all up on him on the dance floor.

"What did it say?" Even if she hadn't explained it, it was the best lead we had yet. Perhaps I had underestimated Sookie.

"It was pretty gross," Sookie explained. "Something about demons and lighting candles for seven days and urinating on the victim's house. Here, I'll play it for you." She passed the phone to me and moved aside so the rest of us could gather round the tiny screen. We watched and listened as Hallow's eerily resonant voice chanted in translation,

"_May all the power and knowledge he possesses be turned to mist. May he be a stranger to himself, a stranger on the land, knowing no home.'...Repeat this procedure … over seven days and the victim will lose his senses … and memory, not even knowing where he is."_

"Doesn't that sound exactly like what happened to Eric?" Sookie asked when the tiny video was over. "Who else knows where Eric lives?"

"Just you and me, sugar," I told her. "Besides, there were no strange scents at Eric's home."

"What if they did the spell at Fangtasia instead? He sometimes stays here, doesn't he? Would that be enough to make the spell work?"

"It is doubtful," said Smoking Frog. In response to raised eyebrows all around, Bill explained. "Smoking Frog is well versed in magic. He has been a shaman of the Maya people for over 1500 years."

"Well shouldn't we at least check?" Sookie insisted.

"And how do you suggest we do that?" I couldn't help being sarcastic.

"Well..." Sookie thought for a moment. "The spell says you need a piece of wood from the victim's door to write with. Y'all have wooden doors, right?" I nodded. "So is there any damage?" I shrugged.

"And it says to urinate like a camel. I looked that up on the Internet. Basically it means, 'a lot.' Has anyone been pissin' outside here?"

"You're joking, right?" I deadpanned.

"No," she said earnestly. "That's what the spell says to do."

"It's a bar, Sookie," I waited for my point to sink in, but she clearly wasn't getting it. "At least ten people piss outside here every night." I'd wanted to coat the target walls with electrified sheet metal so a current would flow up the urine stream and zap the bastards. Sort of an "uncover charge"—but Eric wouldn't let me. Killjoy.

"But what if you found the same scent on the ground and on some damage to the door? Wouldn't that be a place to start?" That did sound promising—in more ways than one.

"I'll check the front door, the rest of you check the employee entrance," I ordered. A quick glance at Fangtasia's main entrance revealed no new or obvious damage beyond a few dents and scrapes.

When I reached the back door, Sookie was pointing excitedly at a spot where a long splinter had been gouged from one edge of the door. It looked to me like something that could've happened during a beer delivery, but I had to admit that if the splinter had come out in one piece it could have been used as a makeshift writing tool. Maybe Sookie was on to something. Plus I had thought of a great way to have some fun with this.

"So, now we check for scents?" I queried. Sookie nodded. Time to go for the kill.

"Bill, you're always saying what a great sense of smell you have. Go to it," I urged. He leaned into the door and inhaled deeply, eyes closed for better concentration.

"Yes," he said finally. "There does seem to be a scent there. Definitely human."

"Good," I cooed. Pointing at the darkest part of Fangtasia's back wall, I added, "There's the outdoor urinal. See if you can find a match, would you?" He gave me a deathly scowl, but there was no way out of it now. I smiled sweetly. "We'll wait here."

I could hardly keep from laughing out loud. Bill often said the smell of human food and drink revolted him—I could only imagine what he'd think of its byproducts.

Bill walked slowly along the Wet Zone, sniffing delicately and pausing once or twice for another sniff, then returned wearing a look of utter disgust.

"I did not detect a match," he said sourly. "There are far too many powerful scents there to make a comparison. Perhaps you'll have better luck."

"Not likely." I smirked at him. "Well," I said to our little group, "What's Plan B?" We returned to Eric's office for more discussion.

"Just because Bill didn't find a match doesn't mean there isn't one," Sookie pointed out. "There are too many scents to be sure, right?" When he nodded, she continued. "So there could still be a witch involved."

"Why would a witch want to remove Eric's memories?" Bill argued.

"Could've been hired by one of his enemies," I said. "Maybe someone who wants his territory."

"There is another possibility." Four heads swung to look at Smoking Frog, who'd said very little so far.

"I think it is more likely Eric has been cursed," he said.

"Curses, spells, what's the difference?" It was all semantics to me. What difference did it make what we called it as long as we found a way to fix it?

"A spell is delivered by a person," the little vamp explained. "A curse can be delivered through an object."

"You mean something Eric _touched _ could have done this?" I was horrified. Smoking Frog nodded grimly. "Like what?"

"It could have been anything. Clothing, a book, a bottle of blood. Perhaps a gift. Anything, as long as only Eric was going to use it."

"Then it had to have happened in New Orleans," Sookie said. "I talked to him early in the evening and he was fine. Bill said he saw him there at midnight and he was still himself. Then he came back like this."

"That is a possibility," Smoking Frog agreed. "But most likely it was something here, I think."

"Why?" I demanded. Sookie's logic sounded good to me.

"The witch would have to be certain he would handle it. Objects from his normal surroundings would be the obvious choice."

"But what about the timing?" Sookie argued. "He was away from home when it happened."

"A curse may gather power slowly," the little shaman-vamp explained. "Sometimes days go by before they take effect. A very good stealth weapon." His black eyes glinted dangerously and I realized that Smoking Frog was not someone you wanted as an enemy. But I hated what he'd had to say.

"Well that's just great. We're fucked." I threw up my hands in disgust. "How can we possibly know who's responsible if we don't even know when it happened?" Fuck.

"The same way detectives do," Bill said calmly. "Motive and opportunity."

"That makes sense." Eric spoke for the first time. "Pam said I have enemies—who has reason to harm me?"

"It's a long list," I told him. "But only half of them have been around recently."

"We must discuss this," Smoking Frog suggested.

Bill glanced at his watch. "Not tonight, I'm afraid. We must return to Bon Temps—I promised Jessica a ride home from work."

"Tomorrow night then," Sookie suggested. "Let's meet here at 7:00 … or how about 7:30."

"That should be fine. May I offer you a ride home, Sookie?" Bill asked. Eric let out a low growl and tightened his grip on her.

"That won't be necessary. I'm … staying with Eric," she replied uncomfortably. Tension rose in the room, as Eric and Bill locked eyes in a silent standoff.

It was Bill that blinked first. "Very well then. Be safe, and I will see you tomorrow night." Bill and his guest departed, leaving the three of us alone in Eric's office.

"So we're done here, right? Because I'm beat, and I want to get this one home," Sookie said, squeezing Eric's hand affectionately and looking up at him with a smile. He shot her a look of pure lust. I hoped she wasn't _too_ tired.

Once the Loveboat left port, I wanted to go flirt with a juicy brunette who'd been eyeing me all night. Unfortunately, some idiot put a call through to the office line. It was Jessica. Again. What part of "I'm busy" did she not understand?

""Pam, I really, _really _ need your help with Hoyt."

Doesn't everyone? I really should start charging for this.

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><p>Up next: Amelia introduces Sookie to the mysteries of magic, Hallow connects a few dots, plans go awry and a casual decision has unintended effects.<p> 


	14. Chapter 14: All This and Heaven Too

The characters are the property of Charlaine Harris and Alan Ball. Thanks to them, and you, for reading and maybe reviewing. Amazen and I always love hearing what you think of the mystery we've got going :) Happy Thanksgiving to all the Americans out there, and good tidings to the rest of you as well. I'm thankful for a lot of things in my life...my family, my friends, and for fanfic, too. It's an awful lot of fun and I've met this great community of writers and Eric and Sookie fans because of it. cheers, mo.

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><p><strong>All This and Heaven Too<strong>

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><p>"I'll drive." Eric held his hand out expectantly, palm up. That was fine with me. I fished his keys out of my purse. I'd only driven to Fangtasia because he didn't know where it was and I hadn't wanted to try and play navigator. From my experience, men didn't take directions very well. Driving Eric's Corvette made me nervous, so I was happy to turn over the keys. As I handed them over, our fingers grazed, sending little shocks of electricity between us. "Let's go," he said, then captured my hand in his larger one as we crossed the parking lot to his car.<p>

He kept glancing heatedly at me out of the corner of his eye as we walked. If I'd thought he'd let us get home before kissing me, I'd have been wrong. As my hand reached for the passenger door, he turned me around and pinned me against the car with his hips and crashed his mouth to mine. His hand followed the curve of my hip to the bend of my knee, pulling my leg up and around him so he could get even closer. With great reluctance, I pulled his head away from mine enough to breath. "Eric, we can't do this here."

"I've been waiting to do all night. We are finally alone and I have you all to myself. Kiss me—" he said, but he beat me to it.

Despite how talented his lips were, I managed to pull away before the heat growing within me burned away all reason. Not that I wanted to stop kissing, but I'd noticed there definitely was a spectator getting a good show, and judging by their thoughts, they were enjoying it. "We aren't alone. There's someone watching." A low growl escaped, and he turned over his shoulder to scan the lot. "Don't go chasing them. Let's just go." Eric nodded and tucked me into his car then quickly darted around to the driver's side and slid in beside me.

By the time we got home—funny, how quickly one can adopt that term for a new place—I was ready for bed, but I knew I should eat something before I passed out. My radical schedule change was definitely affecting my eating and sleep habits and I didn't want to wear myself out.

Eric slipped off his jacket and kicked off his boots, leaving them in a pile in the entranceway like a typical guy while I hung my coat in the closet. Before I had closed the door, Eric's arms were around me and his lips were on my neck.

"Hold on, buddy," I said, trying to put some distance between us before I got carried away. "I need to get something to eat."

He grumbled a bit, but after one last quick kiss he walked me to the kitchen. When I'd grabbed groceries this afternoon, I'd been careful to get things that would be easy to fix in Eric's bachelor-vampire kitchen. Some instant oatmeal would do the trick, so I pulled out a pouch and poured it in a coffee cup, added some water, and put it in to microwave.

"Can I help?" Eric asked as I started looking through drawers for a spoon. Surely he had some of those.

"I guess." He seemed really eager and I had to stifle a laugh. Bill hadn't wanted to get near human food if he could help it. Apparently vampires were not all created equal. Of course, I couldn't imagine Eric offering to help under normal circumstances, and he was probably only offering now to speed me along. "Grab the strawberries from the fridge. The red fruit?" I said, realizing he might not know what a strawberry was. I was still kinda fuzzy on what the boundaries of his memory loss were. Finally on the last drawer I found a stash of silverware and took out a spoon and a knife.

"Here," I said, handing the blade to him. "Just rinse them and cut off the green top parts." The microwave dinged and I stirred my oatmeal before putting it back in for another thirty seconds.

"I couldn't have gotten through tonight without you. Thank you," Eric said as he cut up my fruit.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Pam helped." It didn't seem fair to take the credit when she'd been the one to lead him through the vampire politics portion of the evening. I'd mostly just been there for moral support.

Eric let out a chuckle. "Yes, Pam is quite helpful. But I think I shall wait to tell her so." I tried not to laugh. Eric and Pam were always teasing one another, and apparently his memory loss hadn't affected that. It was a huge relief that they were now getting along. It'd caught me off guard when Eric hadn't trusted her initially, and I knew there was no way we could get through this without her. "However, I am not so sure I trust Bill, or his friend."

Eric was zipping through the strawberries so quickly I could hardly see. I wondered how fast he could slice and dice an onion. Now that'd be something to see. I had a flash of a show on the food network—Vampire Iron Chef. I really was getting tired (and possibly spending too much time with vampires). Or maybe I was just trying to think about anything other than Bill and having to further explain our past to Eric. It'd been bad enough that my ex-boyfriend had walked in to see his sort-of boss dancing with me. Calling our conversation "awkward" was the understatement of the year.

When he'd filled the bowl I'd set out for the strawberries, Eric tossed the knife in the sink and turned to me. "But you do." The microwave dinged. I took out my oatmeal and stirred it so it would thicken up while I tried to think of how to respond to that.

"Yes. I trust Bill. I know it's crazy after … everything. But I still believe he cares. And he'd be crazy to cross you."

"You have feelings for him. I can feel it." No. Maybe. I didn't really know. But what I did know was that Bill was in my past. My oatmeal had just reached that perfect consistency; if I didn't eat it quickly, it'd only get stiff, so I took a big bite, chewed, and swallowed. "But they are not like the feelings you have for me. I feel that, too."

Eric was definitely right about that. Probably because Bill had been my first love, our relationship had been rather shallow, at least in hindsight. I'd had a lot more time to get to know Eric before I'd started developing feelings for him. The jury was still out on whether or not an informed decision was necessarily a better one, but the feelings I had for Eric were definitely an entirely different kind of beast.

I nodded in acknowledgement of my feelings for him, and took another few bites of my breakfast, dinner, or whatever meal it was. Eric just stood there watching, seemingly deep in thought.

"You came home with me. Not him."

"I did." I scraped the last of the oatmeal out of the cup. It was warm and familiar and uncomplicated, which was exactly what I needed right now.

"You should be mine." This conversation was definitely _not _what I needed right now.

"Eric …" I started. "I …" I set down the cup and looked up at him, taking his hand in mine. "I find I really care for you. A lot. But …"

"Why 'but'?"

"You aren't all of you. This is too much, too fast. We should have this discussion when you get your memories back. For now, let's just … be."

He stepped closer and his eyes saw me, yet were somehow focused on something far beyond me. The expression reminded me of the real Eric, if only for a moment. Then he smiled, wide, as if he'd realized he'd actually won, then reached for a strawberry. "Here," he said, bringing a piece of the fruit to my mouth.

It felt silly to have a vampire feed me by hand. Perhaps a little patronizing. "You don't have to do that," I said, but my lips parted of their own accord as his fingers placed the fruit in my mouth.

"I know. But I want to." His fingers lingered longer than was strictly necessary, almost daring me to continue nibbling on them even though I had the soft flesh of the berry on my tongue.

"Why's that?" I asked, and reached for my own piece, but Eric pulled the bowl away and took one again, repeating the process.

"Maybe I'm hoping you'll return the favor sometime," he said with a mischievous grin. Hadn't I already let Eric drink from me? Maybe this was his way of being able to do that. I swallowed. "Tell me what it tastes like."

"Hmm?"

"The strawberries. How do they taste." He fed me more, and I thought about it for a moment, savoring my favorite fruit.

"If they are just ripe, they're sweet, with just a little tart. Like summer." Gran had kept a patch when we were young, and we always made strawberry ice cream in her old hand-crank on the Fourth of July. "They taste like freedom and fireworks."

Eric placed the last strawberry in my mouth. After I'd finished it, he kissed me. Not with forceful passion like before, but slowly, tenderly, not bothered by my sticky lips at all. I wondered if he could taste the strawberries as his tongue brushed against my own. It didn't take long for the kiss to deepen. Unbidden, my hands moved to his chest then up over his shoulders and around his neck, pulling myself against him. When I broke away, he brushed light kisses across my cheek as my heart beat wildly against his chest.

"Sookie … let me take you …" he didn't even specify where before he started kissing me again.

"Mmm … as fun as I'm sure that trip would be, I'd really love a shower and to go to bed." But I didn't move my cheek from leaning against the place where his neck met his shoulder.

"Consider me your guide," Eric said with a laugh.

And what a trip it was. Cascading water over natural stone, exotic scents rising through the steamy, otherworldly mist—it was definitely my kind of vacation. Eric washed and rinsed my hair, then soaped me up with his hands, kneading my shoulders, then gently brushed his fingers down my chest, trailing suds across my breasts that the currents of water quickly washed away.

The least I could do was return the favor, so I filled my hand with the amber-colored liquid bath gel and lathered him up as well, enjoying the small sounds of pleasure he made. We explored each other's bodies lazily, with no real urgency to get anywhere, like a road trip on old two lane highways where you can stop off at a roadside diner in an unknown town on a whim. The skin on the insides of Eric's elbows turned out to be the softest that I could find, and he was surprisingly ticklish. Though I'd have to say, after careful examination, that his butt was still my favorite part of him.

Eric made an excellent travel advisor, taking me to new worlds without leaving the house. The warmth of the shower contrasted with the feel of his cool body against mine sent my skin into sensory overload. We continued to kiss and touch until the water ran cold, then dried each other off with Eric's big, fluffy towels.

We were both very, very clean.

As he wrapped the towel around his waist and tucked in the corner securely, my eyes were drawn to the barely visible scar on his hip. I traced my finger over the mark, looking up at the mischievous vampire who bore it now and catching a glimpse of the boy who'd earned it.

"You told me once, how you got that scar. As a boy, when you climbed higher than you'd ever been before, and fell out of a tree." There'd been a lesson in there, when he'd told me the story, but the memory was all caught up in the other events of the night—my run-in with Debbie Pelt, breaking glass when I tried to keep that light from shooting out of my hand, Eric biting me for the first time. I know he'd told me the moral of the story, but I couldn't remember it now, even as I traced the line along the same path on his skin as I had that night.

Eric quirked an eyebrow at me. "The more I learn about our past relationship, my Sookie, the more I think you are hiding from me."

I pulled my hand away from him, but he snatched it up in his own. "I'm not hiding anything."

"You say you are not mine, even now. Yet you've had my blood. You say we've never made love before last night. Yet I find it hard to believe it was not my single-minded goal from the moment I met you. You say I've revealed to you stories from my past, from my human life. Yet even I know that as a vampire I would not talk freely about such things. There is something about you, or about me, that you are not telling."

But all I could think about was that there was something about him. Something in those blue eyes I was only just now seeing, and for a moment, I thought maybe it wasn't so impossible for him to have feelings for me. Maybe we'd both been hiding something from ourselves—and from each other. "Whatever it is, I'm sure you'll figure it out. Just like we'll figure out how to get your memories back." He left my hand drop, a small frown forming. I pulled my towel tighter around myself, turned my attention toward to the mirror and busied myself getting ready for bed.

Lost in thoughts I thankfully couldn't read, Eric waited while I finished up my bathroom routine. He watched with impatient boredom while I brushed my teeth, but he did offer to help rub in my lotion and even asked if he could comb out my hair.

"Never in a million years would I have thought you'd do this for me," I said as I handed him my wide-tooth comb, but then I remembered a certain dream in which he had performed this very task. I'd written it off as ridiculous—the Eric Northman I knew just didn't fit into intimate scenes like this.

"But here we are," Eric said with a smile. Well, he was right about that.

Despite Eric's protest, I put on my nightshirt after hanging up my towel (and Eric's, which he'd simply thrown on the floor). I yawned, loud and long. As stimulating as the shower had been, I was ready to hit the hay.

"There's a robe for you," I said to Eric, noticing one hanging on a hook on the back of the door.

"Does my nakedness bother you?" Eric teased.

"No … I just thought you'd be more comfortable … it's kind of chilly."

"I can think of better ways to stay warm than a bathrobe." He walked out into the hall, turning towards to door that led to the basement. When I didn't follow, he turned and beckoned me with a nod of his head and a sexy smile.

I pulled the corner of my lip in between my teeth, worried about how to phrase this without hurting Eric's feelings. Gran always said firm and direct was the best way to explain yourself, so I just blurted out, "I'm really tired, and I want to sleep in the upstairs bedroom." Eric narrowed his eyes and his smile dropped. From the way he was looking at me, I had the impression that he was using that whole blood connection Magic 8-ball thing to get a sense of my feelings. Before he went jumping to any conclusions, I tried to elaborate. "I'm not used to this kind of schedule and I didn't get a nap today. Sleeping downstairs made me feel kinda claustrophobic and waking up next to …"

"A dead body?" Eric offered when I struggled to find the words.

"Yeah. It's … weird. I know how much you must trust me to let me sleep next to you. I get it. But … "

"It's fine, Sookie. I understand." He took a few steps closer to me, and I had a hard time ignoring the fact that he was still very much naked when he leaned down to brush his lips against my forehead and grasp my hand. "Come on and I'll tuck you in."

Eric's version of tucking me in included settling himself in bed. He slipped in behind me and arranged the covers over us. This shouldn't have surprised me; regular Eric had liked to snuggle. "Is this alright?" he whispered as spooned me, hooking his arm underneath my neck and letting his other hand graze up my leg before coming to rest on the outside of my thigh. His lips brushed light kisses along my jaw and down my neck.

"Mm hm," I mumbled. I'd never felt more comfortable or content.

"Good …" he whispered against my ear. His hands kept moving over my leg, and I rolled further onto my stomach and hiked up my knee so he was free to explore. This only encouraged him and he grew more daring, venturing underneath my nightshirt. "Just tell me if you want me to stop." I leaned back against him, twisting my head around so my lips could meet his, which was invitation enough for him to travel underneath my shirt and cup my bare bottom. I moaned, half in protest, half in pleasure. When he kissed my neck, I felt the brush of his fangs. This wasn't like any form of "tucking in" I'd ever experienced.

"Sookie …" he murmured as his fingers slipped between my legs, seeking out the growing wetness that accompanied the dull ache I felt whenever Eric touched me. His other hand palmed my breast over the thin cotton of my shirt. This sort of cuddling was certainly not conducive to sleeping.

He teased me like that, lightly running his fingers over my skin in a sensual enough way to keep my heart rate rising, but gently enough to let me hover just on the edge of unconsciousness.

My breath caught and I had to yawn again. As sexy as Eric was and despite how incredibly turned on he got me, I was still fighting to stay awake.

"I really don't have it in me to go again tonight, baby," I said, the endearment escaping my mouth before I had time to catch it, but Eric didn't bristle the way I'd have expected just a few short days ago. My half-hearted protest did little to deter his mouth from exploring my skin.

"Let me pleasure you, lover," he almost pleaded as he continued with gentle kisses and caresses.

"As long as you don't expect me to reciprocate tonight," I warned. I was confident I'd appreciate any attention Eric gave my body tonight, but I just wasn't sure I'd be able to return the favor and wanted to make that clear up front.

"There will be many more nights." His hands grew more urgent, their movements more bold. As tired as I was, I couldn't stop from reacting to his touch. Unsatisfied with his position behind me and how it made it difficult to kiss my mouth, he rolled me on my back. Coaxing me out of my shirt, he worked his way down my body, lightly, slowly.

"I want to kiss you everywhere," he said, though he was indicating one place in particular. "Over and over," he added, and his breath sent a shiver across my skin. And then he did, for how long, I wasn't sure, but I knew it couldn't go on forever. Eventually dawn would come, but not before I did.

Eric's mouth and tongue brought me to the edge slowly, delicately, then coaxed my orgasm out of me in one fast, fell swoop. I finally understood what it meant to say, "he made my toes curl", as my feet contracted with an involuntary reflex I couldn't control.

Somewhere during the experience, I'd managed to kick the covers completely off the bed. "You're not very good at tucking me in," I said with a laugh after catching my breath. It'd be nice to be able to pull the blankets over me, but my body still felt like jelly and there was no way I'd be able to move enough to collect it any time soon.

"I got the impression you enjoyed my methods …" he lifted his head off my stomach to say. I brushed his hair back from his eyes. "I thought myself quite skilled." He leaned back down to plant a soft, chaste kiss on my abdomen and I felt him smile against my skin.

"At getting what you want!" I swatted him playfully, but he didn't look the least bit repentant, though he did roll off me to pull up the blankets before cuddling up against me once more.

"What I want is _you_," he said after we were settled. I shuddered, a strange mixture of fear and desire and pride washing over me.

"I'm right here."

Eric whispered more words in a language I didn't understand as I drifted off, and the last thought I remember before falling asleep was that I'd have to ask him to translate tomorrow when he woke.

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><p>Up next: God's Light welcomes a special guest, a freak heat wave has Hoyt hot and bothered, and relatives join the inmates for Family Night.<p> 


	15. Chapter 15: If You're Feeling Sinister

**A/N**: We're back! Thanks for waiting patiently. After a busy holiday season and, we confess, a stubborn bout of writer's block, we're back with a new chapter on Hoyt's incarceration. In the interest of full disclosure, we feel obligated to say that this chapter contains NO accurate depictions of family therapy, and NO reasonable interpretations of Scripture. It's fiction, folks. Enjoy! And of course the characters don't belong to us.

This chapter takes its title from a Belle & Sebastian song. Check it out. I have quite a lot of affection for the band. Also, if you haven't seen it, I did a Secret Santa Fic exchange story, which turned into a multi-chapter Eric and Sookie alternate universe set in 1936 New Orleans with a noir feel. It's called My Private Eye, and you can find it on my personal profile page moxiemo (rather than the joint account) or my blog (links on profile page). Updates for this story will be more regular now. cheers, mo

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><p><strong>If You're Feeling Sinister<strong>

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><p>"<em>You see this? THIS is the true face of death." The blackened corpse was bloated and stinking with rot, but Reverend Newlin shook it in my face anyway. With each shake, the stench intensified and the limbs began to fall apart. "Is this what you want in your bed? THIS is what vampires really are. God wants you to wake up, boy. Wake up, before it's too late!"<em>

I jerked awake with a start, my heart pounding and my skin drenched in sweat, only to find myself in a tight spot—literally. I'd been so desperate to get away from that corpse that I'd crammed myself up against the wall and pushed so hard that the bed had moved. Now I was sliding down between the bed and the wall. Christ. It was bad enough we'd had to listen to that lunatic talk last night. Dreams oughta be private property. _No trespassin',_ _dammit!_

I shoved the bed away and had just picked my ass up off the floor when Summer opened the door and poked her head in.

"Rise and shine, handsome!" she chirped with an ingratiating smile. "Daylight's burnin'. Breakfast in 20 minutes!" The door popped shut again before I could respond.

"Right. Wouldn't wanna miss them runny eggs," I shouted after her.

"Waffles today," came floating back from the hall. Getting the last word with that girl was damn near impossible. I kicked the bed back into place and sat down to rub my eyes. Waffles. That had to be an improvement. Unlike last night's "big surprise", which had made me want to puke. Thinking back on it made me want to puke all over again.

After hinting about the surprise all day, the staff had finally herded us into the chapel for the big reveal, which turned out to be a personal visit from Reverend Steve Newlin and his wife, Sarah. Sarah was a perky blonde, a girl-next-door type, while Newlin went for the clean-cut church choir look. That might fool some folks, but I knew they were nothing but hate-mongers. With his plump cheeks and beady eyes, Newlin looked like an evil chipmunk.

"I see some new faces here tonight!" Newlin's tone had been unnaturally bluff and cheerful like a bad salesman, which was exactly what he was, but instead of selling vacuums or encyclopedias, he made his money spreading hate.

"Welcome to God's Light Refocus and Recovery, where we help you overcome your addiction to the evil vampires and find your way back to humanity."

There had been some quick formalities—Sarah Newlin handed out a couple of new "Seen the Light" t-shirts to scattered applause, and Steve had encouraged the wearers to stay on to help others who are still suffering. Then the Reverend started preaching his batshit crazy brand of nonsense.

He'd started out reasonably enough. "How many of y'all here are Christians?" Of course we all raised our hands. I could count on one hand how many people I've met in my life who wouldn't claim to be Christian. "Praise His light. Now, do you know that the Holy Bible contains proof that vampires are opposed to God? Yes, it's true. Right there in Acts 15, verses 19 to 21." He picked up a Bible and waved it.

"God tells us to abstain from blood, but what do vampires do? They _drink_ blood. And what does that tell you? Vampires are actively opposed to God. So tell me this: how can any true Christian possibly accept vampires and still obey God's Word? It can't be done!" The reverend paced from one side of the sanctuary to the other, while his wife nodded approvingly from a nearby chair.

"And what about this? God's law says man is to be born, live a good long life then die _and decay._ 'Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.' So we know that dead creatures that refuse to rot _must_ be of Satan, no matter how human they look. And what do vampires do? They _don't decay! _So what does that tell you? Vampires are evil by their very nature." A few scattered 'Amens' greeted this, but I thought it was stupid. When he went on to say that vampires were false idols because only Jesus rose from the dead, I had to speak up. I learned better than that in Sunday school, dammit.

"What about Lazarus?" I interjected. Reverend Newlin had stopped in his tracks and pinned me with his beady little rodent eyes. He asked my name, then drew himself up and piously informed me that Jesus raised Lazarus through the power of God.

"If He raised Lazarus from the dead, maybe He raised the vampires. That's possible, ain't it?" There were a few shocked whispers, but Newlin wasn't fazed.

"Now Hoyt, I can tell you're a thinking man but there's such a thing as thinking too much." He wagged a disapproving finger at me. "Satan is always waiting to lead us astray. Your question might sound logical, but I can tell you there's absolute proof that you're wrong."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"Well, let me ask you this: how do you kill a vampire?" He reminded me of my high school science teacher, standing there with hands on his hips and waiting to see if anyone knew the right answer.

"Personally, I don't kill vampires," I said with disgust, "But other people kill 'em by drivin' stakes through their hearts. Or cuttin' off their heads."

"_Wooden_ stakes?"

"That's right," I said, wondering what his point was.

"As I'm sure everyone here knows, Christ was crucified for our sins. And what was His cross made of? Wood. Since wood kills vampires, it's obvious that Christ intended for us to kill vampires in His name. And why? _Because they're evil._" Now that was some crazy logic, but a couple of people were nodding in agreement. Newlin beamed at them and spread his arms wide. He was on a roll.

"It's hard to see how anyone could fail to be convinced by that, but just in case, here's more proof. How many of you know that unnatural strength is a sign of demonic possession?" Everyone in the room who had read _The Exorcist_, which was apparently just me.

"Are vampires unnaturally strong?" He waited for the crowd to answer back and several people shouted "Yes!"

"Their very strength betrays them as demons, and we all know that demons are evil. No matter how you slice it, there's just no escaping the fact that vampires are pure evil. And it's our God-given duty as Christians to destroy them."

Now that was just hateful, and I said so. Loudly. "How can you call yourself a Christian when you're so full of hate? Do you even _know _ any vampires?" I'd heard enough and _really_ wanted to leave, but a couple of staff members had blocked the chapel doors. So there I sat for a whole 'nother hour while Steve Newlin went on and on about daylight and sin and vampires being lesser beings, until he wore himself out. Finally, he called for "all of you who've seen the Light" to go up and join him.

One by one Erin, Janetta, Mike, Dan and the institute staff had gone up to the front of the church. Newlin instructed them all to join hands, then started up preachin' again.

"The most important thing we can do for those still ensnared by the vampires is pray for them," he said piously, raising his eyes and his hands to the ceiling. "We need to pray that God will change their hearts and open their eyes to the truth. Because without the power of God and the conviction of the Holy Spirit, we will never succeed in freeing our brothers and sisters from the tyranny of vampires. Let us all take a moment now and pray for their deliverance." The people up front bowed their heads and Newlin turned to the rest of us inmates. "Just like these friends, your families and loved ones are all praying for you right now. Open your eyes and see His holy light. Amen." They finally let us go after that, and I had gone straight to my room, where I spent the rest of the night praying for deliverance from this loony bin.

But my prayers had gone unanswered. I yawned and rubbed my eyes again, shaking my head, trying to shake off the unpleasant memory. Yesterday had been another doozy alright. Thank God they had to let me go tomorrow. I groaned and got up to shower, wondering if things could possibly get any worse.

After an unsatisfying breakfast of toaster waffles, I had another session with Dr. Updike, the psychologist, who kept trying to get me to find images in some idiot's finger paintings. How crazy is that? Then we finally got some time outside to get our requisite dose of sunlight. You couldn't call it relaxing, though. The institution's high fences were topped with razor wire, making the grounds feel like a prison exercise yard. Luckily, our guard wasn't too observant, and I was able to straggle far behind the main group without him noticing.

Thankful for a few moments of peace, I picked up a stick and ran it along the chain link fence as I walked. Then I saw movement in some bushes on the other side. I shoved my stick through the fence and poked at whatever was crouched in the bushes.

"Hey!" a familiar voice yelled. Jason emerged, kicking up a fit of dead leaves.

"Quiet, they'll hear you!" I whisper-shouted. "What are you doing here?"

Jason brushed off his jeans as he came closer to the fence. "Oh, you know, checking out the shrubbery. What do you think I'm doing here!" he shot back.

"You came to get me out of here? Have you seen Jess?"

"No, man," Jason gave me the stink-eye. "Why would I be seein' Jessica?" He thought for a second, then brightened. "But I did hear she gave your momma a hard time last night, trying to find out where you were." That was a relief. I didn't want Jess thinkin' I'd just up and lit out on her. She had to be too smart to believe I'd let some stupid law or my crazy momma keep us apart. I didn't care what the world thought about our relationship. Nothing would stop me wantin' to be with Jessica as long as she wanted to be with me.

"So, you got a plan to bust me out?" I asked. It seemed like a long shot, but at least Jason was a good enough friend to try. I had to give him that.

"I wasn't even sure this was the right place 'til I saw you," he replied, pulling up a blade of grass to chew on. "I tried to come on over when I first heard you was here, but they wouldn't tell me nothing. You've only got another day in here, right?"

"That's what the law says." The stupid law that allowed supposedly loving families to have anyone in a relationship with a vampire committed for 'evaluation'. "But I don't think these people care much about the law. There's people been in here for weeks, maybe months. No way am I stayin' that long."

In fact, I was starting to think maybe this new law was just a trick to get people into these Fellowship of the Sun brainwashing centers. Jason knew what the FOTS was like—he'd been involved with them for a little while himself, though I never did hear the full story. Maybe he'd have some insight on how to escape.

"I hear ya, bro. Let's make a run for it," Jason whispered. "Think you can climb this fence? My truck's over that-a-way." He pointed to a shady spot just a few yards away. I hadn't had another opportunity and was unlikely to see a better one, but one look at that razor wire and I knew there was no way I'd make it over.

"You think _you'd_ be able to scale this without cuttin' yourself up?" I asked. He stared, raising one eyebrow as if challenging me to dare him. He was just dumb enough to try it, too. Then again, Jason had been a star quarterback and I wasn't exactly athletic.

"Ain't it worth a few scrapes to get the hell outta here? Never figured you for a pussy." Jason rocked back on his heels and stood up, then stared back at me. Sometimes Jason was just plain reckless; I was being realistic. If that made me a pussy, so be it.

"Fortenberry!" The guard was heading towards me. I knew our time was up and said a hasty good-bye.

"Thanks for coming, Jase. You're a good buddy. Tell Jess where I am and get her to come bust me out of here, the sooner the better!" I waved him off, and he scampered through the brush back to his truck—and freedom.

Reluctantly, I plodded back to the group while the guard prodded me with my own stick and demanded to know what I'd been doing.

"Just enjoyin' nature," I said, hoping Jason and Jessica would come through and get me out of here. Soon.

After the walk, we had lunch. Then we were supposed to have prayer time, where we picked a partner to join hands with and each took turns asking God for forgiveness, direction and "light". I tried my best to avoid this mandatory activity, having always preferred a private connection with God. But Summer cornered me again, this time swinging a pretend lasso around me and then reeling herself in.

"Hey, there, partner!" She hooked her arm through mine before I could move.

"Ah, thanks, but I'd rather do my praying alone. That way God gets my full attention."

"Now Hoyt, the Lord has something very special in store for you, and part of my job here is to help you realize that." I seriously hoped she was kidding, because I knew that if the Lord had anything in store for me it sure as hell wouldn't involve this crazy place.

"I'd really rather just do my own thing," I said, but the peppy blonde on my arm was impossible to shake loose. Apparently I didn't get an option.

Summer led me to her room, which was bursting with stuffed animals. Pink bears and purple elephants and other multicolored balls of fluff.

"You like it?" She giggled. I shrugged. At least it wasn't dolls.

"Summer," I started to say, "I really don't think …" but she went and closed the door behind us, and locked it. With a key. Definitely a bad sign.

I was trapped.

"Now," she said with a coy look, "I've got some extra special therapy for you today. Not everyone gets this kind of therapy, Hoyt. Only those we think it will work on." She turned me around and started pushing me towards her bed, still talking.

"Clearly, somewhere along the line your sense of what is attractive in a partner, in a woman, got warped." She started unbuttoning her blouse. "You'd rather have a cold, dead vampire than a warm, loving human. This treatment will help you correct that."

"I know you're a sexual person," she purred. She took another step forward and I retreated from the crazy gleam in her eye. My daddy always said crazy women were more dangerous than rabid dogs, and by the look of things Summer was fixin' to be both rabid _and_ crazy.

"Hey! We're supposed to be praying. You keep your clothes on, lady..." I kept on backing up, trying desperately to think of some way out of this.

"I'm here to do God's work. To save you, Hoyt." As her shirt fell to the floor, the back of my legs hit the bed. Oh shit. I looked everywhere but straight at her.

"Now wait just a minute," I stammered. "It's a sin to have sex if we're not married!" I knew it was lame, but I was grasping at straws.

"Are you saying you want to marry me?" she asked, rubbing her lace-clad breasts up against me.

"Hell, no! I ain't goin' to bed with you neither!" Ignoring my protest, she grabbed for the waistband of my sweatpants. _Damn, where was my old tricky belt buckle when I needed it? _ I knew I could easily shove her away, but no way was I going to put my hands on her or do anything else that might encourage her craziness. Quick as a flash, she yanked my pants down, and when I reached down to pull them back up, I lost my balance and toppled over, right on top of her.

"Oh Hoyt!" Summer moaned. When she started wrapping her legs around mine, I saw the room key fall out of her pocket. It had one of those big tags like a motel key, and while she was busy rocking her hips up against me, I was able to snatch it up without her noticing. Now I just had to get away.

"Stop!" I hollered, and tried to roll off of her, but she held on and just up rolled with me till she was the one on top.

"All breakthroughs are painful," she panted, looking down at me with eyes full of lust and a good case of bed head. "But don't worry, I'm here for you." She leaned over and blew in my ear, then started kissing her way down my neck. I had to get her off me and make a run for the door, so I did something desperate. _Forgive me, Jessica, _I thought, even as I returned Summer's sloppy kisses. _I've got to get out of here and this is the only way._

After a few seconds I said in my best sexy whisper, "Get up on the bed, Summer. Let me strip for you like you did for me. I want you to enjoy it." She nodded enthusiastically, letting me up and scrambling onto the bed. I did a little booty shake, and may have borrowed some moves from Jason just to distract her till I could run out and lock her in. She was up and banging on the door immediately, but I ran for my room before anyone else came to investigate.

I kept waiting for someone to come interrogate me about what had happened during "prayer time" and how my partner got locked in her room, but no one did. It was the first stroke of luck I'd had since I got here.

I should've known it couldn't last.

After a dinner of overcooked pork chops and hard-boiled cauliflower, dessert was served with a real rotten cherry on top: another chapel session with the Newlins—and my momma. And I'd thought things couldn't get any worse.

Tonight's torture was "family therapy night". It was supposed to help us gain some insight into each other's point of view and help heal each other, so they herded us inmates into the chapel again and made us all sit with our families. The same families that put us here.

They started the evening with a bunch of half-baked icebreaker activities, and then we had to draw genograms, stupid family trees with different symbols that were supposed to help us get to the "root" of our problem. Far as I could tell, it just caused _more _problems. Like, Momma wanted to put in when Daddy died, but when I asked Newlin what the right symbol was for suicide, she got all upset and tried to hush me up. "We don't talk about that," she hissed at me. Well, hell. How's not talking about it going to help us "gain insight"?

After the genograms, everyone came back together into one big group and took turns sharing our "breakthroughs".

Then Steve explained how we'd benefit from multi-family group therapy, that we'd be able to "see" ourselves in other families, since we were all here for the same problem: vampires. He claimed it was like an addiction to darkness that affected an entire family, not just the person who was "ensnared by the dead ones". Then things got even more depressing: as if rehashing our own problems wasn't torture enough, we had to unpack everyone else's old baggage of childhood bed-wetting and old family grudges too. I didn't see myself in any of these crazy people.

After that, the Newlins went around the room with stupid questions like "If I asked your mother how you feel about her attitude, what would she say?"

My answer to that was, "Why don't you fucking ask her yourself?" And that set Momma off again.

"You see Reverend Newlin?," she wailed. "You see what I have to deal with? After all I've done for him, everything I've sacrificed, he just won't see _sense_. He's determined to throw his life—" she started blubbering, "—his poor, poor life, away on some two-bit, red-headed, _dead_ floozy!" Momma always turned on the tears when nothing else worked, and I almost always gave in. Not this time. I just set my jaw and glared at her over crossed arms.

She was pretty convincing alright, booin' and hooin' into one of her big floral hankies—except that I saw her sneak a peek at the Reverend to make sure he was watching. He went and put his arms around her, which only made her crank it up another notch.

"I just don't know what to _do_," she sobbed into his sleeve. "This isn't the sweet boy I raised. That vampire's done something to him. He just ain't_ thinkin' right_!" Newlin got a sinister gleam in his nasty little eyes when she said that.

"Well, Mrs. Fortenberry," he said, his oily tone oozing with repressed glee. "There may be something more we can do to help..."

Momma stopped in the middle of blowing her nose to ask, "Oh? Wad zat?" He smiled benevolently.

"As you know, the _Consorting with Dangerous Vampires Act_ allows for three days of psychiatric observation."

"But the three days are up tomorrow," Momma blubbered. "And he's still talkin' crazy. "I don't know what else to _do_."

Like a wolf moving in for the kill, Newlin asked her, "Wouldn't you say that if Hoyt was released tomorrow, he'd be a danger to himself?"

Mike, who'd been sitting next to me all night, punched my arm and whispered, "Here comes the kicker." He laughed bitterly.

"Well...I...I...a danger to himself?" Momma looked back and forth from me to Newlin like she didn't know what to think.

"Would he go back to that evil whore of Satan?" Newlin prompted. Now that made me mad.

"You're damn right I would," I yelled, jumping up. "She's not evil—she loves me! And I love her. And for your information, Jessica is not a whore. In fact, she's a virgin." Newlin just laughed.

"_Hoyt!_" Momma was shocked. Cussin' in church was a definite no-no. Even though we weren't exactly "in" church.

"You see? He'll run right back to her," Newlin said to her. "Don't you think that might put him in danger?"

"Oh I just _know_ it would," she wailed. "She'll kill him, I just know it." She was really puttin' on a good show.

"Fer Christ's sweet sake, momma," I shouted. "Jess is _not _gonna kill me. These Bible-thumpers are crazy. Have you _seen _what they call treatment? Get me out of here, dammit. I'm beggin' you."

Newlin glanced at me and carried on smoothly. "Mrs. Fortenberry, if your son is set on going back to her, he's a danger to himself, isn't he?"

"Well," Momma said doubtfully. "If you put it like that...I guess so. Yes." Now she was cryin' for real. Great. Just great.

The reverend pressed onward. "Well then, Mrs. Fortenberry, we have a solution for you. The same law that brought your son to here God's doorstep allows you to commit him for a further 30 days if —that's _if,_ mind you—you believe he's a danger to himself or others, and our trained expert doctors agree." Newlin was already steering her toward a little desk off to one side at the back of the room. "You just need to sign one little form and that's all there is to it," he chirped. "You can rest easy knowing your son is in God's hands. He'll have another 30 days to realize how he's been deceived."

Mike nudged me. "Told ya," he whispered. "You'll never get out of here."

"No way!" I was hollerin' and slammin' on the pews now. "No way are you keeping me here—I want a lawyer. _Now_, goddamn it!"

"Oh thank you, Reverend Newlin." Momma gushed. "You just don't know what this means to me. Where do I need to sign?" She sat down at that fuckin' desk and I leaped over about six pews to stop her.

Newlin reached into a drawer and brought out a "30 Day Committal" form, already pre-signed by Dr. Updike. Great. He set the form in down, ostentatiously pulling a gold pen from inside his jacket. He even twisted it to expose the ballpoint, all ready to go.

"Now Mrs. Fortenberry, all you need to do is fill in Hoyt's name and sign right here" —he pointed—"and your son will be safe for another 30 days. We can repeat this procedure as often as needed, so there's no need for you to worry any more. We'll take good care of him." He patted her shoulder with one hand, holding out that damned pen in the other.

When she took hold of the pen, I slammed my hand on the desk and got right in her face. Boy, was I mad. "Momma, if you sign that paper, I will never speak to you or see your face again, so help me Jesus." She started up boo-hooin' again, then looked up at me all teary-eyed and answered in a sad, righteous tone.

"Someday when you're a parent, you'll understand why sacrifices are necessary, and forgive me." And she signed that fuckin' paper.

"You _can't _do this!" I shouted, "I am an adult, by God. I got _rights!_"

Newlin's comeback was more than smug. "Not if you're a danger to yourself or others."

I lost it after that, kickin' benches, throwin' Bibles and cursin'. Everyone still in the room left in a hurry, and I guess the reverend musta had someone standin' by with one of those knockout shots 'cause after a couple minutes, everything went black.

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><p><strong>Up Next:<strong> Amelia explains the principles of magic, Hallow brews up trouble and Sookie, no closer to solving Eric's problem, gets carried away


	16. Chapter 16: Vanished

A/N: As always, characters belong to Charlaine Harris and Alan Ball. Thanks for all your reviews (and sympathy for Hoyt! The poor guy certainly deserves it). This chapter is named after a song by Crystal Castles. We're at the halfway point of this story, folks! Can you believe it! There's plenty of action in store for our favorite telepath.

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><p><strong>Vanished<strong>

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><p>I woke up alone but feeling rested and relaxed, and smiled at the memory of Eric tucking me in. The curtains were open, admitting the bright silvery sunlight of a glorious winter morning. I stretched luxuriously, said a quick prayer of thanks, and got up to put some coffee on to brew.<p>

Opening the living room drapes, I discovered that Eric's house had a spacious deck, a great place to enjoy my first cup of coffee. It was tempting to waste the morning sunbathing like I was on some sort of vacation but I knew that once night fell, my problem—an amnesiac vampire threatened by unknown enemies—would return. I figured my best course of action was to get back to work, but that didn't mean I couldn't enjoy the sun. After pouring myself a big cup of coffee, I grabbed my phone and my new book about vampires and headed outside.

Bill's South American friend may not have been convinced by that spell Hallow had shown me, but he did seem to agree that magic was definitely involved, so that seemed like a good place to start. I weighed the pros and cons of seeking out more information from the witches I'd met yesterday. Admittedly, Hallow had been kind of intimidating, but I'd gotten a good vibe from Amelia, and for some reason, I trusted her. Even though most of the time I considered it a liability, telepathy had definitely given me good instincts. I was a good judge of character.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I flipped through my contacts and hit send.

"Hi, Amelia, it's Sookie Stackhouse. We met at the magic shop yesterday?"

"Of course! I had a feeling you'd call."

"Well, I've been working on my research, and I had a few questions …"

"We should meet for lunch! I love talking about magic. I'd love to help." Boy. That was easy. I was feeling better about this already.

"Great. Could you do it today?"

"I have to work, but I get a break mid-afternoon. How does 2:30 sound? There's a great sandwich place nearby."

This was almost too easy. I had to remember to stay on guard. "Sounds perfect."

"See you then!"

In the meantime, I figured I could study the book I'd picked up yesterday. I'd only had time to look at the first few chapters last night, but had found it quite interesting. So far though, it offered no leads on what could have happened to Eric. I went back inside to refill my coffee, then settled in to continue reading.

It began with a history of the Great Revelation. Since Bon Temps wasn't really affected by those events, I hadn't paid close attention at the time, and a lot of that information was new to me. It covered how the medical need for synthetic blood had made it all possible, but I skipped all the scientific stuff. Cloning red blood cells, the use of stem cells, bone marrow—it wasn't that interesting or relevant to the problem at hand.

The section on Vampire Physiology looked more promising. The scientific community seemed to view vampirism like a disease; something that should be studied, explained and cured, like AIDS or cancer. But the only brain research mentioned had to do with vampire brain chemistry. It had studied whether serotonin, dopamine and adrenaline, which were linked in humans to a sense of well-being and also to violent behavior, might be responsible for vampires' chronic aggression. Apparently feeding vampires produce a spike in those chemicals, which was interesting but again, not helpful to solving Eric's problem. I'd been hoping to find something about memory, but the subject hadn't even been touched.

I almost gave up at that point, thinking this whole research idea had been a waste of time. Then I got to the chapter on vampire blood, which was actually the main reason I'd bought the book in the first place. I knew for a fact that vampires worked hard to suppress information about their blood, so I wasn't surprised that this chapter contained no scientific research. It consisted mainly of rumors and anecdotes about the effects of drinking vampire blood. Tales of the enhanced senses, stamina and sex drive that had made "V" a popular and quickly banned illicit drug were downplayed. Much more weight was given to several reports of devastating and unpredictable outcomes of ingesting vampire blood, including several accounts of "V-induced psychosis", episodes of severe mental illness in V users. All in all, this chapter was eerily accurate.

One thing it didn't touch on was the erotic dreams brought on by drinking vampire blood. I wondered about that. I knew it couldn't be just me—Lafayette had had the dreams, too. Maybe you had to drink directly from a vampire for that to happen. I wondered if Sam had experienced them after taking so much of Bill's blood after the maenad crisis. I couldn't help giggling—if he had, they must have made him uncomfortable. Sam is as straight as a pool cue.

The book also claimed that vampires rarely offered their blood to humans, and then only for a few specific reasons, such as to maintain a useful source of blood or to be able to track a person of interest. (The scientists scoffed at that one.) Nothing at all romantic or altruistic. In fact, nothing I'd read so far suggested that vampires had such feelings at all.

In reality, I didn't think things were really that simple.

Certainly not my relationship with Eric. I thought back to last night. "I want you," he'd said, in a way that was clearly more than sexual. The memory of it made me shiver.

Would 'real' Eric have said that? This Eric didn't seem to be at all concerned with the risks of loving me. Unless he got his memories back, I'd never know what the other Eric had meant to say on New Year's Eve. I'd never allowed myself to hope that there was a chance for us to have anything more than the intense physical attraction we'd always shared, an attraction that reason told me was better left unexplored. My Eric, or the Eric I'd come to think of in that protective sort of way, hadn't hesitated to declare his feelings for me. If Eric got his memories back, would he regret that? Retract it? Did that Eric even have feelings for me? Was it possible the two Erics were completely separate people? Could this be a vampire version of Multiple Personality Disorder? At this point, anything seemed possible.

As if things weren't complicated enough. There was no sense worrying over that when we were still so far from learning how to restore Eric's memories. I flipped to the last section of the book, a speculative list of other supernatural creatures. There were entries on werewolves, shapeshifters, fairies and other mythical monsters. If only the author knew how accurate he was.

I'd been so engrossed in my book that I hadn't realized how late it was till my stomach started demanding something more substantial than coffee. In fact, it was so late that I'd have to shower and dress in a hurry if I was going to meet Amelia on time.

Rummaging through my bag, I encountered something cool and smooth that turned out to be the necklace Eric had given me for Christmas. I ran my fingers over the polished green disk, wondering where it came from and how old it might be. The stone felt colder than it should, even though it seemed to hum with an energy all its own. Inexplicably, holding it seemed to make my nerves a little calmer and my head a little clearer. Whether the effect was real or just psychological, it was welcome and I decided to wear the necklace. It didn't exactly go with my outfit though, so after tying the cord around my neck I hid the pendant inside my t-shirt.

With a last look at the time, I scrambled to gather up my purse, cell phone and car keys. I was actually in my car before I realized how stupid I'd been. No one in Bon Temps locks their doors, and I hadn't locked Eric's either. But this wasn't Bon Temps and worse, it was Eric's daytime resting place. He was totally helpless during the day, and we'd come here especially because of his extra security, which would be more than compromised if I left the front door unlocked. I ran back inside for the spare house key Pam had given me, which I'd left on the kitchen counter. I must've dropped it there after shopping for groceries yesterday. I clipped it to my own keys then locked the house up tight and took off.

As it turned out, I made it to the magic shop with time to spare, and luckily found a good parking spot just half a block away. With ten minutes or so to browse, I admired the exotic crystals in the store window and perused a prominent display on Imbolc, an upcoming day sacred to the Celtic goddess Brigid the Light-Bringer. That table was loaded with red, yellow and white candles and other materials for creating a suitable altar. Now that Christmas was over, the display case under the cash register featured heart shaped stones, "love tokens" and other witchy Valentine's paraphernalia. Apparently even witches relied on holiday marketing tie-ins.

As I looked around, a pretty cat with long whiskers came up and began rubbing on my ankles. Hallow approached as I bent down to scratch him behind the ears.

"You're back." Her voice was as deep and hollow as I remembered. It gave me the creeps.

"Excuse me?"

"You came back. Did the spell not work?" She smiled thinly, a faint glint in her amber eyes. I would have loved to know what she was thinking, but once again her thoughts were oddly staticky. I wondered if they were naturally opaque or whether she protected them with a spell of some kind.

"I told you," I said nervously, "That was research for a story I'm writing." Hallow just smiled, her expression veering dangerously close to a sneer.

"Of course it was." She took a step closer and I backed up hastily, tripping on the cat. Quick as lightning, she grabbed my arm. It saved me from crashing into the candle display, but then she held on for another long moment.

"There is power around you today," she said.

"I beg your pardon?" Hallow reached out a bony finger and touched the exact spot where the pendant lay under my t-shirt. It was all I could do not to shudder.

"Your talisman," she said. "It's powerful."

"Oh that. It's a gift from a friend. Nothing special." I managed to pull back out of her grasp and steady myself, but she stilled stared at me intensely.

"Naturally." She smiled again, and this time I did shiver.

"Well, Ms. Hallow, it's nice to see you again but I'm meeting Amelia for lunch and..." I managed to slide past her and darted over to the cash register, where Amelia had just finished up with a customer.

"Of course." Hallow took Amelia's place behind the counter, still pinning me with her eyes.

"Hey, Sookie. Let me grab my bag and I'll be ready to go." Amelia ducked back into the storeroom to grab her purse and headed for the door, leaving me alone with Hallow again. Uneasy under that stony gaze, I fiddled with my keys.

"Are you a regular at that vampire bar?" Hallow asked, tilting her head towards the key I was tapping on the glass. I'd clipped Eric's house key to my own set, but hadn't noticed the black and red Fangtasia key ring.

"Oh, no, I mean, well just once, for a bachelorette party." My cheeks flushed at the lie. Gran had taught me to value honesty, and I felt a little ashamed at myself. But for some reason, I didn't want Hallow knowing anything about me, especially not my connection with Fangtasia.

"Oh, I thought maybe you'd done research there. You know, for your ... story," Hallow said.

"Well, yes, of course, that too." I squirmed uncomfortably, wishing Amelia would hurry up.

"So you've seen the owner. Striking, isn't he?" Her question summoned memories of my first glimpse of Eric lounging on his elaborate, tacky throne, still and placid, his face expressionless. Striking was right, I thought, recalling the nights I'd spent there running drinks and searching for a killer, feeling Eric's eyes on me all night long. Then I remembered last night, dancing with our bodies pressed together, then _not_-dancing, later on at his house. I flushed again, this time for entirely different reasons.

"He's hard to miss," I said, hoping my response was ambivalent enough.

"Ready!" Amelia said brightly as she bounced out of the back room, jacket and purse in hand. "If you need anything, we'll be at Bread 'n' Roses." I followed her out of the shop.

"Have fun," said an unsmiling Hallow as the bell jingled and the door swung shut. When I glanced back, I could swear I saw malice gleaming in her eyes.

Safely outside the store, I whispered, "Your boss is seriously creepy. How do you stand it?"

"Aw, she's not so bad," Amelia said. "I know she seems kind of intense, but that just takes some getting used to. She's not really the warm and fuzzy type."

"No kidding," I said. We entered the cafe next door and were enfolded in the luscious aroma of fresh-baked bread. "Wow, it sure smells good in here! What do you recommend?"

"Well, how adventurous are you?" Amelia asked with a sly grin.

"Right now I could eat just about anything." My mouth was watering so much that I could hardly talk.

"They make a fabulous turtle stew," Amelia suggested.

"OK, maybe not _anything._ How's the jambalaya?"

"To die for," Amelia said promptly. "Especially with their crusty French bread."

We made our selections and found a sunny booth by the window. As promised, the food was delicious. We focused on eating for the first few minutes. After several bites of her quarter-muffuletta sandwich Amelia remarked, "I was so glad to find this place. When I first came to Shreveport, I thought the only restaurants here were KFC and McDonald's. New Orleans, where I'm from, has so much more variety." Amelia wasn't just thinking about the variety of dining options. Shreveport was much more conservative than she was used to.

"So what brought you to Shreveport?" I already knew the answer but wanted to see how honest her response would be. That would tell me how much I could trust her.

"I didn't have much of a choice. My father … and my mentor … it's a long story." But it was easy to fill in the blanks because Amelia was such a loud broadcaster. The short version was that Amelia's father disapproved of her witchiness, and her coven had cast her out for turning a fellow practitioner into a cat during some experimental sex magic. I thought back to the friendly grey and white cat at the magic shop, and wondered if that was the Bob Amelia was thinking about now.

So, she was being cagey. Well, I hadn't been totally honest with her either.

"Do you visit home often?" I asked.

"Oh, well, no. I had plans to go back with Hallow for a New Year's Eve thing, but then I got terribly sick and couldn't go. I was pretty bummed about that for awhile." Warning bells went off in my head, and it took me a second to figure out why. Then I realized—not only did Hallow have access to an amnesia spell, she'd been in New Orleans on the night Eric was cursed! It could be a coincidence, of course. But Claudine had practically led me to _this _ magic shop. Could Hallow be the key to this puzzle?

"So, how's your story coming along?" Amelia asked. "You said you had questions? I love talking about magic. Was the spell Hallow showed you helpful?" The spell had been thought provoking and we'd found some possible evidence for it, but Bill's friend had thought a curse was the more likely source of Eric's troubles. If I could learn more about curses, maybe I'd have a new idea before we met up tonight.

"It was interesting, for sure. But the more I think about it, the more I'm wondering if a curse might work better. Do you know anything about curses?"

"It might be easier for me to explain if you start first by telling me what you know about curses," Amelia ventured.

"Oh. Well, someone ... um, a friend, told me a little. He said curses are usually delivered through objects, and that it has to be something only the target would handle."

"There's a little more to it than that," Amelia said, thoughtfully cocking her head to one side. "You sure have a lot of interesting friends." She studied me for a couple of moments, then seemed to reach a decision of some sort. Reaching across the table for my hands, she asked, "This isn't really research for some story, is it?" I stared, caught off guard. She squeezed my hands gently. "Want to tell me about it? You can trust me. I won't say anything to Hallow. Or anyone else. I promise." I bit my lip, hesitating. I was getting nowhere on my own and I desperately needed someone to talk things through with. Listening to her thoughts, I could tell she really meant it. She took her craft very seriously, and considered client confidentiality a sacred trust. I smiled a little, then looked around. Bread 'n' Roses was packed, and this wasn't something I wanted to discuss in public.

"If you're worried about privacy, I can cast a veiling spell," she added quietly.

"How does that work? Won't people notice?" I worried.

"Just the opposite," Amelia assured me. "They may hear our voices, but they won't be able to pick out any words. To anyone who's really close—like those people over there—it'll sound like we're speaking a foreign language."

"Are you sure it'll work?"

"Absolutely. You can test it," she said, smiling. "Just give me a minute to get it in place." She reached into her bag, coming out with a string of dull black beads that looked like a loose bracelet of some kind. She reached out to me again, saying, "You'll need to take my hand for this." Feeling vaguely foolish, I did. She inhaled deeply, then closed her eyes and began a whispered chant, counting repetitions on the string of beads as she worked. Since I couldn't hear what she was saying anyway, I concentrated on thinking up a good test.

A few seconds later, she released my hand and tucked the beads away again. "All done," she said, grinning. "Give it your best shot."

"Oh my god," I exclaimed. "Is that Elvis?" I figured there was nowhere in the South that a statement like that wouldn't turn some heads, but no one seemed to notice. "It's the King! He's alive!" I added, just to be sure. Nothing happened.

Unless Amelia's giggling counted. "That's a good one," she said. "I'll have to remember that. Satisfied?" I nodded. I had no clue what she'd just done, but it did seem to work.

"Okay," she said. "Let's start at the beginning. You've got a vampire who's lost his memory." I nodded again.

"Just out of curiosity, does this have something to do with Fangtasia?" I frowned. She must have heard the last bit of my conversation with Hallow.

"It's one of the owners, but _please _don't repeat that."

"You have my word," she assured me again. She nibbled on her sandwich for a few minutes, then shot me a conspiratorial look. "And are you, shall we say, _involved_ with this vampire?"

I nodded again, knowing my blush gave me away. "That's one way of putting it."

"There's more to you than meets the eye, Sookie." If she only knew how true that was. I liked her, but wasn't quite comfortable enough yet to reveal my own little quirk. But considering how open-minded she seemed, I wondered if it might be possible to have a bona fide human friend who didn't care about my extra-sensory powers of perception or resent the vampires in my life. Someone I could just be myself with. It was a novel prospect.

"Same could be said of you," I said. Amelia smiled widely, obviously flattered.

"So, tell me about your vamp." I gave her the abbreviated story of Eric's problem, emphasizing the details I thought would be most helpful.

"And then this other vampire turned up with an old shaman, who says he thinks it might be a curse," I concluded. "And that's all we know so far. But we really need to get this fixed before whoever attacked him comes looking to try again." There were other reasons too, but it wasn't my place to discuss the vampire hierarchy with outsiders.

"So if I understand this right," she said, "Your vampire lost his memory on New Year's Eve, but there's no clear indication of who's responsible or when the mage attacked?"

"Mage?" I repeated, feeling stupid.

"Whoever did the magic," Amelia clarified.

"That sounds right. We don't even know for sure _where_ it happened. The shaman says that if a curse was involved, there could've been a time delay on it."

Amelia perked up at that. "A time delay? It would take a really powerful mage to pull that off, and that would cost money. _Lots_ of money. Does your vamp have any wealthy enemies?"

I thought about that, absently stroking the cool pendant. I noticed again how it seemed to settle my thoughts. Nearly all the vampires I knew of seemed pretty well off. Did Eric have enemies? Of course he did. You couldn't live a thousand years without crossing a few swords. But Pam had said none of them were in Louisiana. I supposed the queen might be a suspect—she was very wealthy and there seemed to be a lot of tension between the two of them. But both Pam and Bill had said the queen's position was weak, that Eric's loyalty was the only thing keeping her enemies at bay. So it wouldn't be in her best interest to harm Eric. And if there was one thing I knew about vampires, they were all about self-interest.

Then I recalled another verywealthy vampire who might want to harm Eric. Victor Madden, former owner of the Red River Hotel and Casino, where Lorena had tortured Bill within an inch of his life. Eric had helped me rescue Bill, and I was pretty sure he was responsible for the fire that destroyed the Red River not long afterward. Having met Madden, I knew he'd definitely go after Eric if he knew that—or even suspected.

"You know Amelia, I think you're onto something," I said. I wondered if Pam had thought of that possibility. "I'll have to ask—"

"What's that? Let me see," Amelia interrupted, reaching across the table to finger the carved green stone.

"Oh, just a necklace someone gave me."

"A certain vampire someone?" Amelia winked, and I nodded, blushing again. "Wow," she said respectfully. "There's powerful energy in that. That's some gift you've got there."

"Oh, well. He said he'd had it for a while, but it couldn't really be his and that he thought I should have it. I have to admit, it does feel like it belongs to me."

"I've seen markings like that before—they're associated with the Fae. I bet that's a fairy token. I've read about them, but I wasn't even sure if they were real."

"Fairy?"

"Faeries. The Fae. Fantastical, ferocious creatures. Never met one myself. I'm not sure there even are any in our world anymore."

That's where I knew something that Amelia didn't. I knew one personally, my own fairy godmother, to be exact. And next time I saw her, I'd ask about this pendant. How had Eric come to possess it? Claudine had been adamant that fairies took great pains to steer clear of vampires. And what had made him think it belonged with me, when he'd had it for such a long time?

"What's a 'fairy token'?"

"Well, I don't know anything definite, just legends. There were supposed to have been made for different reasons … for protection or healing, and facilitating certain kinds of magic. I'm not sure what this one is, but it's powerful. And old. Can't you feel it?" Amelia sat back in her chair and scooped up the last bite of the pastry she'd insisted we share for dessert. I tucked the pendant back inside my t-shirt, thinking about how soothing it felt. Maybe it wasn't all in my head. Before I could ask any more questions, Amelia noticed the time.

"Oh gosh, I've got to be getting back to work. If I'm late, Hallow will make me do something awful, like grind up mummy powder and soak it in oil."

"_Mummy powder?_" I was shocked. "From real mummies? Humans?"

"Yes," Amelia said, making a horrible face. "It's nasty."

"Why would anyone want that?" I shuddered, unable to imagine even touching such a thing.

"We sell it to practitioners of Voodoo and Santeria. They use it to repel evil."

I shuddered again. "It sounds completely gross."

"It is," Amelia agreed. "That's why we need to hurry." She began gathering up her things.

"Wait," I said. "Don't you have to undo the veil spell?"

"Oh, that'll dissipate as soon as we leave," she said. After threading our way through the cafe's crowded tables, and we walked the short distance back to her shop and stepped inside to say our goodbyes.

"I hope we can do this again, Sookie. It's been really fun. I'll think about your questions and call you if anything comes to mind." Amelia had been more than helpful and I'd enjoyed her company too, so I promised to stay in touch.

Hallow stepped out from behind a shelf displaying crystal balls and devotional figurines, catching me off guard. "Do come back," she said, staring at me.

"Sure," I said, glad to be leaving the shop. Outside, I checked my watch. It was only 3:30, so with luck I could get my laundry done before Eric woke up, and we could have some quiet time before meeting Pam, Bill and Smoking Frog at Fangtasia. With a hopeful spring in my step, I headed back to my car. I should have been concerned when heavy steps fell in behind me, but it was broad daylight in a busy area and it didn't seem out of the ordinary.

I thought about my visit with Amelia. It looked like we had turned up two solid suspects—Hallow, who'd been in New Orleans on New Year's Eve, and Victor Madden who had a good motive to harm Eric. Hm. What reason would Hallow have to attack Eric? None that I could think of, though she certainly knew who he was. Wait. _What if Hallow was working for Victor Madden?_

That was the last thought I had before a thick hand holding a handkerchief covered my mouth as hardened arms squeezed the breath out of me. I kicked as hard as I could, but my captor didn't even flinch. A strange and sickly sweet smell permeated my nose. Before I could struggle further, I was inelegantly tossed into the back of a van. My head swam dizzily, and then the world vanished.

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><p><strong>Up next: Eric examines his feelings, Pam questions the usual suspects, and help is needed to sniff out Sookie's whereabouts.<strong>


	17. Chapter 17: Desperately Seeking Sookie

**A/N:** We are sorry for leaving you hanging for such a long time! Our muses have been stubbornly refusing to cooperate (and Mo has been working on original fiction and that Eric Sookie noir story My Private Eye). But now we're back and hope to post more regularly and wrap up the rest of the story before season 5 of True Blood begins airing in June. Thanks for reading!

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><p>My eyes snapped open suddenly, even though a sense of sticky lethargy told me the sun was still up. Panicky and disoriented, I scanned my surroundings for any sign of danger. If I'd been alive, my heart would be pounding with terror though I couldn't see or hear any obvious trouble. After a moment, the feeling stopped. What had happened? Why was I awakened? There was no danger here—perhaps it was someone else? Not Pam. I could sense that she was in no distress.<p>

Sookie.

It had to be Sookie, though I hadn't realized our connection could penetrate my daydeath. I sat up slowly, trying to shake off the fog that still hung over my mind. After that first bolt of terror, I did not sense her at all. She'd been the only thing in this world I'd felt a constant connection to, and now, nothing. That meant she was either unconscious—or worse. I had to get to her, and quickly. Sookie had said she'd be home before I rose, but I could tell she was not in or near the house.

Anxiety gnawed at me, conjuring up terrible visions of someone harming the selfless woman who'd become both my compass and my anchor. I did not have a clock here, but estimated that at least an hour of daylight stood between me and her.

It felt like five.

I flew upstairs the moment the sky turned grey. As I'd thought, she wasn't home. I grabbed my phone, remembering how she'd explained that her number was programmed under 'S'. When she didn't answer my call, I searched my blood again for any sign of her, and still felt nothing.

I looked down at my phone and scrolled through the list of names until I found Pam's number. Maybe Sookie was with her? If not, Pam would help me find her.

"Pam. Sookie is not home. Her fear woke me about an hour ago, but I have felt nothing from her since."

"Slow down, Eric." Pam's tone was sharper than I thought was appropriate, given our relative positions. "What's this about Sookie?"

"She's gone. Something's wrong." I was pacing now, restless and fearful.

"Are you sure? Sookie's smart. There's no need to … freak out." Her nonchalant attitude was grating. Did she not understand what a powerful jolt it would take to rouse me? My child did not seem to register the gravity of the situation.

"Did you try calling her?" I pulled the phone from my ear, glaring at it.

"Of course I did. She does not answer. Something is wrong."

"Well keep your shirt on. I'm on my way to your place anyway. I bet she gets there before I do." I hit the 'end' button on my phone and continued pacing.

When Pam did show up, she was unconcerned despite the fact that there was still no word or sign of Sookie. Pam thought she was probably stuck in traffic, running errands or maybe even back in Bon Temps to retrieve her cell phone charger. Pam thought we should go to Fangtasia and wait for Sookie to show up on her own. "She probably went out with that Claudine again. You can put in some more face time while we're waiting, maybe even get some work done," she said.

"No," I said firmly. "We will find Sookie. I owe her this."

"Perhaps Bill can check on her," Pam suggested.

"You mean that vampire who looks constipated? What does he have to do with this?"

"He is Sookie's nearest neighbor. If she's in Bon Temps, he can find her quicker than we can."

But he wasn't home either. "Maybe she stopped by Merlotte's," Pam suggested. "Her place of employment," she added, in response to my raised brow.

'Merlotte's' turned out to be a redneck bar in the middle of nowhere, a dingy clapboard bungalow dotted with colorful neon beer signs. A handful of road-weary cars and trucks huddled in the dusty gravel parking lot, but the dark corners and secluded location away from the main road made me frown. Though I knew Sookie was quite capable, it didn't seem exactly safe for a woman to be out here in this secluded area alone, late at night.

As we rolled into a parking spot, another vehicle pulled in beside us. Inside were the vampire Bill, who had taken such offense to my connection with Sookie, and a young redheaded female vampire.

"Let's see if they know anything," Pam suggested, and so we waited for the new arrivals to get out.

"Eric," Bill nodded at me, unsmiling. "Pam." She nodded back. Bill's companion greeted Pam brightly, but seemed to view me with caution.

"We're lookin' for Sookie," Pam said without preamble. "Either of you seen her?"

"Nope. She's got a few days off," the girl said. Her wide eyes and solemn expression radiated sincerity, making me think she was probably quite a new vampire.

"What do you mean, 'looking for her'?" Bill glowered at us. "I thought she was with you." He glared back and forth between the two of us.

"She went out today and hasn't come back yet," Pam said lazily. "Eric seems to think that's a problem." She rolled her eyes and flipped her key ring around one finger as if humoring a petulant child.

"It _is_ a problem," I hissed. "I felt her fear."

"Eric?" Bill's eyes narrowed. "If any harm has come to her because of you, I will stake you myself!" I dropped fang and growled.

"Where is Sookie?" he demanded. The redhead's wide eyes, which had followed our exchanges avidly, got even bigger.

"I asked you first," Pam pointed out. "Got any ideas?"

"Sookie's with _Eric _now?" the young one blurted. "That was fast." She looked again from me to Bill, this time obviously comparing us. I smirked and smoothed my hair. There _was _no comparison as far as I could see. No doubt she saw it too.

"And who might you be?" I asked. The girl's jaw dropped at that, confirming her newborn status. I felt certain that no self-respecting older vampire would betray such blatant surprise.

"You _know _ who I am," she protested. "You were there! I stayed with you! You punished me!"

"That's Jessica. She's Bill's," Pam explained shortly, adding an aside for the girl. "He doesn't remember." I must have looked doubtful, because Bill made a dismissive gesture. "It's a long story," he said, visibly increasing Jessica's shock.

"Do not speak of this to anyone," Bill said firmly, taking Jessica's arm. "I will explain later. Come, you will be late for work." The four of us entered the bar together.

_Follow my lead_, Pam muttered in Swedish.

"You never tell me anything," Jessica grumbled darkly, shaking off Bill's grip.

Conversation died when we entered the bar. Apparently we weren't unknown here. Behind the bar, a short, wiry shapeshifter looked unhappy to see us. The flamboyant black man beside him snatched up a full shot glass and began to sidle away, but Pam snagged him in an instant, pulling him back and dropping him on a bar stool. Jessica, who was heading straight for the staff area, patted him sympathetically as she passed by. The black man flinched.

"Lafayette," Pam purred. "Don't leave—we just got here." He downed his shot in one gulp, shaking, and I wondered what Pam had done to instill so much fear in him.

"Now that I've got your attention," she continued, "What can you tell me about Sookie?"

"S-Sookie?" Lafayette stammered out. "I don't know nothin' 'bout Sookie. I ain't seen her since New Year's Eve."

Pam turned to the shapeshifter, showing fang. "What about you?" she demanded.

If he was fazed, he covered it well. Leaning forward, the shifter got right in her face and barked, "I don't know what you think you're doing, but I don't appreciate you coming in here and terrorizing my staff." Turning to the young man, he added," Check the kitchen, Lafayette. Somethin's burnin' back there." Lafayette was off like a shot, the smell of fear trailing after him like bad cologne.

"Why can't you people just leave Sookie alone?" The shifter threw down his bar towel and took up a confrontational stance.

"Sam," Bill interjected, "Sookie is … unaccounted for. We are trying to determine her whereabouts."

"Oh, great." The shifter scowled angrily. "That's just great. You won't be happy till she's dead, will you?"

His snarl was directed at me, so I leaned over the bar, hoisting him up by the front of his shirt. "Have you seen her?" I growled.

"_No,_" he hissed back at me. "Put me down, _Eric_."

I dropped him, murmuring, "Good boy. That wasn't so hard, was it?" It was fun watching him untwist his shirt—I might have done it again if I wasn't so concerned about Sookie. But apparently I'd gotten his attention.

"What do you mean, Sookie's 'unaccounted for'? What happened?" His voice broke with emotion, suggesting a certain unwelcome depth of feeling. Baring my teeth, I was about to warn him away from her when Pam interjected.

"We're supposed to meet her tonight, to drop off a check for the Fangtasia shifts she worked"—the shifter scowled unhappily at this—"When we got to her house, there was no sign of her. She wasn't there at all today. Apparently she's not here either."

Jessica re-emerged wearing a clean apron and carrying a few menus, followed by a wiry blond man who'd come swaggering out of the men's room. Turning in their direction, the shifter called, "Jason—you seen Sookie today?"

_Sookie bror_, Pam said under her breath. Her brother. Though I could see the family resemblance in their blond hair and dark eyes, it was obvious from his swagger that Jason was as self-involved as Sookie was selfless.

"Uh, no," Jason was saying. "But I'll take another beer." The shifter shoved a glass mug under one of the bar taps and began filling it while Jason eyed Pam with frankly sexual speculation.

"I don't see what the big whoop over Sookie is," Jessica whined. "She's been missing for, like, five minutes. Hoyt's been gone for _three days_. Why doesn't anyone care about that?"

Bill gave her a look. "Not now, Jessica."

"Yes, _now,_" the young vampire's response was petulant. "Why doesn't _anyone _care about Hoyt?"

"I care," Jason said. "In fact, I saw him today." He rocked back on his heels, looking smug, and Jessica was on him in a flash.

"You saw him? Where is he? Is he all right? We have to get him out. Take me to him, now!"

"Whoa, whoa—slow down Jess." Jason backed up and raised his hands. "One question at a time."

"_Det är hennes mänskliga. Hon tror att hon är kär._" Pam's aside was dry and sarcastic.

"_Kanske hon är," I_ replied.

"_Var inte löjlig," _ Pam retorted. "_Vampyrer älskar inte, Eric."_

"You might be surprised," I said. Pam just rolled her eyes.

Jason had recovered himself and was patting the young vampire's shoulder kindly. "Don't you worry about nothin'," he said soothingly. "I found him in Clarice and he's fine. I got a plan to bust him out."

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go!" Jessica had whipped off her apron and was pulling Jason toward the door when Bill intervened.

"Jessica! I forbid you to leave before your shift has ended."

"But _why?_" she whined. "Everyone's so worried about Sookie. She probably went out shopping or something and lost track of time. Hoyt's been _kidnapped!_"

"Sookie is not shopping," I snapped. "Her fear awakened me during the day. And now I can no longer feel her at all."

"Wait, Sookie's missing?" Jason had apparently caught up with the part of the conversation that did not concern him. "Why ain't you-all out lookin' for her?"

"We are," Pam said with exaggerated patience.

"_Fråga dem om Claudine," _I ordered her. It was a long shot, but we couldn't afford to overlook any possibilities. Rolling her eyes again, she complied.

"Do any of you know someone named Claudine?"

"Claudine?" Jason grabbed a few peanuts from a bowl on the bar and was tossing them into the air to catch in his mouth. "Yeah, I know her. She was over for Christmas." Chewing hard, he added, "Man, that is one fine lookin' lady."

This sounded right. Pam had said fairies were physically beautiful as well as intoxicating.

"Her brother's kinda weird though," Jason continued, catching a few more of the peanuts. "Takes his clothes off in public." He shuddered, causing Lafayette, who was listening from the kitchen, to snigger.

"How can we contact her?" she demanded.

"I dunno," Jason said blankly, chewing away. "She's a friend of Sookie's, that's all I know." My hopes dimmed, and Pam and I exchanged glances. Then Jason remembered something. Perhaps he wasn't useless after all.

"Wait a sec, she came with her brother. He owns a strip club in...Ruston? Claiborne? No, that don't sound right. Lemme ask Lafayette, he's been there." Jason swaggered over to the kitchen pass-thru.

"Lafayette! What's the name of that strip club you-all took Sookie to?" Lafayette chuckled again.

"Why? You change yo' mind about auditioning?" A plate of food appeared in the pass-thru and the cook shouted, "Arlene! Order up!"

"No, man!" Jason hissed. "Keep your voice down. Sookie's missin'. These vamps want to ask that Claudine if she knows anything."

"It's called Claude's," the cook drawled, sliding the plate to an unnatural redhead who'd come to collect it.

"Oooh, another girls' night out in Monroe?" The redhead gushed. "Count me in!"

"Naw, Jason here's lookin' for it. They hirin'." The cook winked at her.

"_Lafayette!_" Jason blustered, red-faced.

"Jason Stackhouse," Arlene teased, poking his chest with one long fingernail. "What would your Gran say?" Glaring at the cook, she added, "I ordered a side of pickles with this."

"It ain't for me, Arlene," Jason huffed. "Sookie's gone missin'. These vamps want to talk to them about her."

"Vamps, huh?" Arlene's face went cold and she raked us with a hostile stare. "They're probably the reason why she's missing. I told her they were trouble, but would she listen to me? It's only a matter of time till they kill her. If they haven't already," she added in nasty, nasally tone.

Bill looked uncomfortable at this, but said nothing. Jessica glared at the other waitress and started to speak, but Bill silenced her with a touch. Apparently the woman's hostility was nothing new.

"Arlene, they're tryin' to help!" Jason rebuked her.

"How can you say that, Jason?" Arlene retorted angrily. "Sookie never had any problems until _he_ showed up"—she pointed at Bill—"and since then it's been nothin' but murders and trouble. Now we got _two_ of them, and _your best friend _is missing too. Don't that tell you something? They're evil!" She reached for the fresh side of pickles, but Pam had zoomed over in full fang.

Twisting the redhead's wrist, Pam forced her to an awkward crouch. When the shifter moved to help, I clamped down on his plaid-covered arm. "Do not interfere," I warned him. Bill's mouth tightened in disapproval, while Jessica pumped her fist in victory. Arlene looked terrified.

"Listen, Red," Pam growled, "Bill and Jessica live in this backwater. They have to put up with you. I don't. So unless you want a nice red polka dot neck job to go with that trashy hair, I suggest you mind your manners. Maybe _you_ did something to Sookie?"

The waitress whined in discomfort, desperately avoiding Pam's eyes until Pam grabbed her by the chin for a brush of glamour.

"Where's Sookie?" she snapped.

"I don't know," the redhead whispered. "Last time I saw her was New Year's Eve." Pam released her then, and after rubbing the freed wrist, Arlene snatched up her order and skittered off. Sam shoved my hand away and glared at Pam, but was apparently satisfied that no real harm had been done.

"We're wasting our time here, Pam. Let's go." We headed for the door, with Bill following. I was about to suggest that he stay here when Jason spoke up. "Wait for me," he called, chugging his glass of beer. After slapping a bill on the bar, he hurried toward us. Pam held up a hand to ward him off. To Jason's credit, he kept moving long enough for Bill to speak.

"Jason," he said smoothly, "We need you here, in Bon Temps." Jason skidded to a stop, looking stunned.

"Oh? Why's that?"

"I'm sure Sam will let us know if she comes in here, but someone must keep an eye on Sookie's home in case she returns."

"Why can't you do that?"

"I cannot enter without an invitation." Bill said this with a straight face.

"Oh." Jason appeared to accept this. "That makes sense, I guess. I'm the next of kin." He didn't seem to realize that Bill could easily watch for Sookie's return from outside her house, even if he hadn't have been able to enter. "I'll stay right here," he said, puffing himself up. Pam rolled her eyes while Bill gave Jason an encouraging pat on the shoulder, then turned to follow us outside.

"Do we have an address for Claude's club?" Bill asked.

"How many strip clubs can there be in _Monroe?_" Pam queried sarcastically. "I'm sure we'll find it."

"I have to stop by and let Smoking Frog know that we won't be going straight to Fangtasia tonight. I'll meet you at the club, if we can get an address."

"Pam and I can handle it," I said stiffly. I couldn't blame Bill for his fixation on Sookie, but it was clear he wanted to be the one to swoop in and save her, and I didn't need him for that.

"Bill is a good tracker. And he's had her blood," Pam reasoned. Though her point was valid, it was one that made me even less interested in having his company.

"Not as recently as I have," I said. Though I didn't remember anything before Sookie, I _did_ know I was the last vampire to take her blood, and it gave me great satisfaction to see Bill's unhappiness at hearing this.

"I am just as anxious as you are for Sookie's safe return," Bill protested. Logic eventually trumped my possessive instinct. I had no reason to doubt that Sookie would be mine. If he had a chance at helping us find her more quickly, I would accept his assistance.

Bill caught up with us on the highway on the way to Monroe. Locating the club was indeed easy. The windowless raspberry red building was labeled _Claude's_ in black block letters and festooned with neon female nudes, while gigantic lighted letters on the roof proclaimed "Live Girls." Pam snorted at that.

"'Live girls'? Like other clubs feature dead girls?" she quipped. Pam obviously thought she was funny, but I didn't get the joke.

Claude was easy to find once we'd entered the bar. Though the doorman wanted us to wait in the lobby, it wasn't difficult to follow his trail. He smelled _delicious_—even better than Sookie. The thought of feeding hadn't entered my mind until I caught his scent, but now it threatened to overpower my focus on locating Sookie.

Luckily, I didn't have long to be tempted. Claude was more than willing to give us his sister's phone number as long as we agreed to leave at once.

Pam dialed the number immediately, but it went straight to a pre-recorded message.

"Out of this realm? Fucking fairies," she said before disconnecting the call.

"You didn't leave a message," I said.

"We should be concentrating on getting you back to normal, Eric. I'm sure Sookie will show up. And as much as I'd like to track down another fairy … that isn't the best use of our time and resources right now."

Pam was serious. She obviously still didn't understand what Sookie meant to me. "No," I ordered. "Call her again. And this time, leave a message." I looked her straight in the eye, and she let the argument go.

"If you insist," she sighed. "Then we can check and see if she's gone back to your place." Turning to Bill, she purred, "Why don't you and your South American friend go to Fangtasia and see if she turns up there? While you're waiting, you can entertain the fangbangers and brainstorm about Eric's ... condition." Bill obviously didn't like being sidelined, but after a long pause he nodded in agreement.

Laughing at Bill's sour expression, Pam hit redial on her phone. A moment later, she snapped, "Claudine. It's Pamela, we haven't met, but I'm a friend of Eric's. Sookie Stackhouse is missing. Call me if you know where she is." After leaving her number, she ended the call and asked, "There. Happy now?"

"Not yet," I said grimly. I wouldn't be happy until I saw for myself that Sookie was unharmed. I opened the door of Pam's van and climbed in, slamming the door behind me. Pam got the message and followed so we could begin the long journey back to Shreveport.

"Why are you driving so slowly?" I barked at her.

"Don't worry, Eric. And don't break my armrest." She took a hand off the wheel to smack my hand and I loosened my grip. "She'll be there."

I wasn't sure what I'd do if she wasn't. I felt lost without her, anchorless. adrift at sea. Crossing my arms, I silently willed her to be at home, waiting for me. We'd laugh at the misunderstanding. The stress and worry of the last few hours would melt away, if only I could hear her laugh.

Pam made phone calls as she drove, barking orders at the faceless people on the other end. That was fine by me, until she tried to explain the conversations. I had no interest in whatever she was doing.

"The other sheriffs report that all is well in their areas, so you seem to be the only one affected by this condition. I thought this might have been a more widespread attack on vampires, but it seems you were targeted specifically." Her voice echoed as if I was hearing her from far away.

"Eric, are you even listening to me?"

"No."

"You're really _that_ worried about Sookie?" Pam asked in disbelief.

"Why are you so surprised?"

She tapped her fingers against the wheel and huffed in obvious frustration. "I'm not surprised—just concerned."

"Concerned? That I care for her?" Sookie herself didn't seem to quite believe what I said, or express any hope of our relationship continuing, but I didn't understand her reticence. Perhaps Pam could offer some insight into why Sookie shied away from agreeing to be mine. There was something in our past she wasn't telling me, and I wanted to know what that was as much as I wanted to find her.

I asked Pam what I could not remember myself. "Did I not care for her, before?"

Pam took an unnecessary breath and turned her eyes from the road toward me."No, you did. But you had it under control. You weren't letting your feelings get in the way of your survival."

I turned away from her to face the window, resting my elbow against the glass and leaning my face against my hand. "She has given me the impression that I was not always kind to her."

Pam laughed darkly. "Sookie has no idea the lengths you've gone to for her."

I wanted to ask her to elaborate, but we were pulling into my driveway. Before the van came to a full stop, I had bolted out and dashed inside.

But Sookie wasn't there.

Pam strolled in behind me. She'd grabbed my mail and was thumbing through a catalog when she entered the front door.

"This is no time for shopping!" I snarled. She looked around, surprised.

"She's not here? Maybe she went to Fangtasia." Pam tossed the mail on the slim foyer table and called the bar. When there was no sign of her there either, the gravity of the situation finally, _finally _sank in. "This isn't like Sookie," she admitted, frowning.

"Help me think. Where could she have gone today?" Pam asked. "This really can't be that difficult to figure out."

"So, what's your bright idea?"

"Hmm, sarcastic, even without our memory, are we?" Pam said.

We'd torn the house apart looking for a clue before Pam thought to check the trash. There were a couple of anonymous plastic bags in it, but not much else. There were no messages on my voicemail, no scribbled "To Do" lists and no indication that she'd done anything other than sunbathe during the day. Apparently, she hadn't even eaten before leaving the house. There was nothing in the kitchen but a used coffee cup and a book.

"Isn't that the book Sookie was reading last night?" Pam asked, reaching for it. "Look—there's a receipt here from that magic shop. Wise Woman's Herbs & Charms," she said, pulling the slip out from between the pages. "There's an address on it."

"She might have gone back there looking for more answers," I said, and we were off.

We found the little store housed in a crumbling two-story red brick commercial building. The storefront, a series of tall, narrow wood-framed windows whose many layers of blue paint were now scuffed and flaking, claimed to be the home of 'Wise Woman's Herbs & Charms' though a concrete strip set between the lower and upper stories bore the ghostly outline of a previous business name. Chimes rang violently as I slammed the wood and glass door open. Dodging some loose flakes of the weathered blue paint, I nudged Pam aside to make a quick search of the business. A few customers loitered in the handful of aisles, but Sookie was nowhere to be found.

When I returned, Pam was still standing right where I left her, arms akimbo and smirking at a table full of candles. "'Brigid the Light Bringer'," she snickered, shaking her head. "Well, that's one feast I won't be celebrating."

The lone sales clerk on duty, a perky brunette, glanced at Pam, did a double take and asked, "You got something against light?" Then she winked, and smoothed her hair flirtatiously.

"I prefer moonshine," Pam deadpanned. "Got any of that? I'm Pam, by the way."

"Not tonight," the woman said. "Anything … else … I can help you with? My name's Amelia." It sounded like she was offering Pam something more than products off the shelves. Pam preened a little and started drifting toward the counter.

"Focus, Pam," I growled. "We need to find Sookie."

"I am focusing," she retorted, smiling at the other woman.

"Pam!" I snapped, then turned to the clerk. "We are looking for Sookie Stackhouse. She bought something here yesterday. Do you know where she is?"

"Why would I tell you if I did?" Amelia's friendly demeanor cooled fast. She scanned us both with suspicion, then abruptly looked away to reorganize the perfectly tidy items on the display by the cash register.

"Sookie is missing. We have reason to believe she might be in danger," I said.

"Missing!" The young woman looked at me in shock, then tore her gaze away again.

"There is no need for concern—we will not glamour you." I wanted to reassure her, because something told me this woman would help if she could.

She snorted briefly, still avoiding my eyes. "And why would I believe that?"

"Well, we're not here to steal candles," Pam quipped. "Or crystals. And we definitely don't need your cash." A slight metallic sound betrayed that she was playing with her keys again.

Amelia noticed too, and gasped. She glanced from Pam's keychain to the logo on my jacket, hesitated a moment, then asked, "do you two work at that vampire bar—Fangtasia?"

"Not exactly," Pam purred back. "We own it. You want a free drink? I'm there every night." She was flirting again, giving the other woman a frankly appreciative look.

"Um, maybe." The clerk met our eyes hesitantly. I tensed, waiting to see what she'd say next. Pam winked at her. When neither of us made any other move, the young woman seemed to relax a little.

"Okay, I saw Sookie today," she said. My hands clenched in anticipation, but what she said next crushed my small whisper of hope. "We had lunch together around 2:30, but she was fine when she left. And now she's missing?"

"What time did she leave?" I demanded.

"Maybe 3:30, 3:45?"

"Was she alone? Did anyone follow her? Did she happen to say where she was going?"

"No-o-o-o," Amelia said thoughtfully. "She didn't saying anything and I didn't see anyone follow her. But you know..." she trailed off, looking at us uncertainly.

"What?" I wanted every detail she could think of, no matter how irrelevant it might seem.

"Well, it's probably nothing, but..."

"Tell me."

"Hallow, my boss, left about a half-hour later. She never leaves early, but today she mumbled something about having an appointment."

I looked at Pam, dismayed. That couldn't be a coincidence.

"The _witch_ Hallow?" Pam asked sharply.

"Yes," Amelia confirmed. "How do you know her?"

"Sookie showed us a video of Hallow translating a spell," Pam replied grimly.

"Oh, I remember that," Amelia chirped. "Sookie said she was doing some research on spells for, um, a story she was writing. I offered to help with her research. That's why we met for lunch." So I was right—she _had_ come here looking for answers. I hoped she had not come to harm on my account.

"Where is Hallow now?" I ground out.

"At home, I guess," Amelia shrugged.

"And where would that be?" Pam countered.

When Amelia replied, "I have no idea," I couldn't help growling, causing her to retreat a couple of steps.

"No really," she insisted. "Hallow's really paranoid about giving out information like that. All I know is that she lives near the Hollywood Heights area and once in awhile she visits someone on Robinhood street."

"What about a phone number?" Pam suggested. "We can try a reverse lookup."

"You can try," Amelia agreed, "But I'll bet it's unlisted." She gave us the number and Pam used her iPhone to do the search but as predicted, the number was unlisted.

"We will go to Hollywood Heights. If she is there, I will feel her," I said.

We were about to leave when Pam's phone rang. She answered, then raised her eyebrows in my direction, holding the phone a fraction of an inch from her ear. I could easily hear the tinny voice on the other end.

"_It's Claudine." _Good—maybe now we'd get somewhere._ "You said Sookie is_ _missing?"_

"That's right. Have you seen her?" Amelia hung on Pam's words, understanding that the call had something to do with Sookie.

"_Not today. What happened?"_

"She went for a late lunch with someone and hasn't been seen since. Her lunch date doesn't know where she is." Pam was playing with her keys again—very irritating. If she didn't stop that, I would take them away from her.

"_Maybe she's out shopping."_

"Unlikely. Eric sensed trouble during the day, but nothing since then. So you don't know where she is?"

"_No, not really."_

"Is it 'no' or 'not really'?" If the fairy was here, I'd be hard pressed not to drain her for being so fucking vague. Was it that hard to give a straight answer?

"_Normally I'd be able to pinpoint exactly where she is, but if she goes somewhere must be a lot of iron, because I can't get a fix on her. So all I can give you is a general location."_

"Which is?"

"_She's in Shreveport, somewhere near the airport. I _can_ tell you she's not in an airplane. They're mostly aluminum. I'd be able to find her if she was." _ Well, that was _some_ help. Apparently Pam concurred.

"That's better than nothing. Call me if you get something more specific."

"_Right." _This last was said with sarcasm and the call ended abruptly.

"Any news?" Amelia asked anxiously.

"She's in the city, close to the airport. That's all she could tell me."

"Oh my god," Amelia gasped. "Robinhood street. That's, like, practically _on _the airport!"

"Then we will start there."

* * *

><p><strong>Up Next:<strong> Rev. Newlin faces an old nemesis, Hoyt has a close call, and a 'summer storm' catches Jason unawares.

* * *

><p><em>Translations, courtesy of Google:<em>

_Sookie bror = Sookie's brother_

_Det är hennes mänskliga. Hon tror att hon är kär. = That is her human. She thinks she's in love._

_Kanske hon är. = Maybe she is._

_Var inte löjlig. Vampyrer älskar inte, Eric. = Don't be ridiculous. Vampires do not love, Eric._

_Fråga dem om Claudine. = Ask them about Claudine_

* * *

><p>Hey there, Mo case I still have your attention, I want to suggest you check out <strong>The Elemental Mysteries<strong> by Ethehunter aka **Elizabeth Hunter** (if you haven't already!). I'm currently giving feedback on the final installment, and let me just say, you are going to want to be caught up on **A Hidden Fire, This Same Earth, and The Force of Wind** by the time the last book is released! I you're a fan of SVM, you'll love this series, which is equal parts mystery and romance.

Also, like I mentioned before, in addition to my fanfic blog, moxiemosvmfanfic(dot)wordpress(dot)com, I'm also blogging about my original writing journey and experiences as a YA librarian at mollyspringwrites(dot)wordpress(dot)com, if you want to follow me there :) And Amazen and I will be back here soon with an update to TWIT!


	18. Chapter 18: Mission Impossible

Thanks to Charlaine Harris and Alan Ball for bringing us these wonderful characters.

Since it's been so long since we've updated, here's a recap of what's happened so far:

Sookie was trying to get her life back to normal—but of course, that's easier said than done when you're a telepath. She's fighting her growing feelings for Eric—especially when he shows up Christmas Eve with a thoughtful gift. Eric is called to New Orleans, but they make plans to meet after New Year's Eve. Eric is attacked as he leaves the queen's party in New Orleans, but recovers and takes flight for Bon Temps and Sookie. Hours later, Sookie finds him wandering her country road with no memory of who he is.

Pam and Sookie try but fail to keep Eric's condition under wraps. Enlisting help from Bill and his friend, an ancient Mayan shaman, they race to find a cure for Eric's amnesia. Sookie visits a local magic shop to research possible solutions, but is kidnapped after a second visit.

Meanwhile, Hoyt's been thrown into a detention center for those who fraternize with vampires, run by none other than Steve Newlin and the Fellowship of the Sun. With Hoyt's captivity technically legal, Bill pushes the mainstreaming agenda and forbids Jessica to bust him out. Now, it's Jason to rescue! Or is it?

* * *

><p><em>THINK, Stackhouse. <em> That was gettin' harder with all the blood rushing into my head. But there had to be a way outta this. Didn't there?

_Wait, what would MacGyver do?_ I used to love watching MacGyver with my dad; memorized every episode. 'A course, I couldn't think of anywhere MacGyver got snagged on a window.

Upside down.

While breaking into someone's house.

But still, what would Mr. Genius do if he _did_ find himself in a jam like this? Probably use his Swiss Army knife to cut himself loose. Only problem with that was, A—my knife was on the front seat of my truck. And B—I could feel cold metal from the window latch against the skin of my ass, which mean my pants _and_ my skivvies were caught. So even if I had my knife, it was probably too dangerous to go cuttin' anywhere.

_Okay, what _else _would MacGyver do?_ Probably whistle for a sidekick, which was a great idea. Unfortunately the only sidekick I had was the one I'd come here to rescue. And whistling for _him_ would blow the whole operation. Some ninja I was turnin' out to be.

I hadn't really planned to rescue Hoyt tonight, but after Bill an' them had left Merlotte's, Jessica was on me like white on rice. "If you know where Hoyt is, you _have_ to get him out of there. Tonight, Jason!" She mighta glimmered me, 'cuz suddenly that seemed like a real important thing to do. I'd promised Bill I'd stick around and watch for Sookie, but I figured if Sook was in any real trouble she'da called me, so I left a note on her back door sayin' to call me when she got in. Then I grabbed my bolt cutters and lit out for Clarice.

The God's Light building didn't have no sign—it was just a big old house converted to a sort of clinic-looking place. Gettin' inside their big-ass fence was easy enough—a coupla minutes of snipping an' clipping and the fox was in the henhouse. I could see there were lights and a TV on in front so I snuck around back to where most of the windows were dark. My lucky night—a small one by the back stairs was not only unlocked, but part way open too. Sliding it up didn't make no noise, and it was just big enough to squeeze through, so I did. From there, things shoulda been easy, but somehow I got my pants snagged on the window latch and instead of slidin' straight through, I'd flipped over and wound up hanging upside down inside the room. The window musta been a good ways above the floor, 'cause I couldn't feel nothin' but wall below me. _What a sorry-ass situation._

I had ta keep my legs pointing toward the ceiling, 'cuz my belt was caught so tight that if I let 'em hang down, it damn near cut me in half. It took both hands to balance against the wall and keep from kicking the fuckin' window right out. And bein' upside down made all the blood rush to my head, where the pounding in my ears was makin' it hard to think.

"Shit. What would MacGyver do?" Damn, I was talking to myself. Not good.

Just then, one of my legs went wild, the bolt cutters whacked against the wall and I dropped 'em. That made one hell of a noise. _Shit!_

"Did you hear that?" _Damn!_ There were a couple of guys nearby. As I sweated and tried not to make any more noise, their voices got closer and suddenly some real bright lights went on. I was blinded at first, but after a minute I could see we were in a kitchen.

"Jason?"

"Hoyt?" Thank God. I did have a sidekick after all.

"You know this guy?" Now that my eyes were adjusted to the light, I could see there was a younger dude there too. I wondered if he was another unlucky fangbanger or one of the staff.

"Yeah, it's my best friend, Jason Stackhouse." Hoyt turned his head upside down to look me in the eye. "What are you _doing _here, Jay?"

"Well, uh, I'm here ta rescue you."

The other guy snickered. "Looks like you're the one who needs rescuing, dude."

"Shut up and help me get him down," Hoyt said. At least one of 'em was talkin' sense. It took both of them, but with a bit of teamwork and some fancy lifting, they got me unhooked and turned right side up. I took a deep and much-needed breath, and everything kinda went black around the edges while my blood went all back where it belongs.

"Thanks fellas. I owe you one."

"You're welcome," said Hoyt. "You got a way out of here?"

"Yeah, right this way." I was halfway out the back door when Mike spoke up.

"Wait a minute, we can't leave Dan here."

"Who's Dan?" I asked.

"Sure we can," said Hoyt. "He can find his own way out."

"No way. I'm not leaving without him." Mike's jaw was set. I guess them two musta been special friends or somethin'. Hoyt wasn't buyin' that dog.

"Suit yourself. Come on Jason, let's go." The two of us went for the door again.

"If you leave without him, I'll start yellin'!" Mike threatened. Hoyt looked like he wanted to slug the guy.

Just then some other dude showed up, and man, was he a mess. I dunno what happened to his face, but there were holes, like big nails had been shoved through his skin, all over it. Eyebrows, nose, lips. Even his ears had big, nasty holes.

"Hey Mike, Hoyt. Who's the new guy?" He looked at me with pity. Now that's a laugh—he was the one full of holes. But Mike was sure happy to see him.

"Dan! Man, am I glad you showed up. This here is Jason, Hoyt's friend. He's got a way out of here. C'mon brother, let's go." Mike grabbed Dan by the arm and moved for the door.

"Whoa, whoa, hold up," Dan said, pulling back. "We need to get our stuff first."

"Who cares about clothes?" Mike scoffed. "I've got plenty more at home."

"Well, what about our ID, and wallets and shit? Cell phone?" Dan argued. "That shit's hard to replace."

"So it costs a few bucks. It's worth it to get out of here. We need to hightail it before the staff shows up," Mike argued.

"Come on, Jay. Where you parked?"

"Uh, outside by that big tree across the street."

"Great, let's go." Hoyt wanted to get a move on.

Dan dug in his heels. "Look, I don't want to leave without my hardware."

"Hardware?" I laughed, "Who carries hardware around?" I couldn't believe this guy.

"He means jewelry," Mike explained. "For the piercings. You know. Studs and all."

"Forget that shit." Hoyt was getting antsy. "We need haul ass."

"I can't just leave it," Dan whined. "It's platinum. You know how expensive that shit is? My girlfriend got it for me to replace all the silver ones. I really don't want to leave it. And don't you want your wallet back? We could get some real food on the way home."

At the mention of food, my stomach growled. I'd left Merlotte's before I'd even had dinner. Why the hell did I do that? Damn, I was really hungry now.

"Vampires have plenty of money. She'll replace it for you … "

Spotting a large refrigerator, I edged over to have a look inside while the three of them argued. Let's see … a package of No Name bologna, some leftover macaroni and cheese, a few slices of white bread, and a dried up apple. I grabbed the bologna and bread and was looking for some mustard when Hoyt hissed at me.

"Jason! What the hell are you doing?" I jumped about a foot.

"Figured I'd find something to eat while you all are arguin'."

Mike sniggered. "Hey, I heard that on the news. Burglar broke in, stole some stuff, then fixed himself a snack. Was that you?"

"We ain't arguing, we're leaving. _Now_," Hoyt said urgently.

"We can't go without our stuff," Dan insisted. Hoyt threw up his hands, and Mike elbowed Dan sharply. "We don't even know where it is, moron."

"Well, they took my wallet and all right at the front office," Dan offered. "It's probably in there somewhere."

"They took mine in that god-awful isolation room," Hoyt said. "Upstairs. What if they keep it up there?"

"No, it's got to be somewhere where they can make a record of it and keep it all separate and shit," Dan argued. "Probably close to the office."

"You don't know that." Hoyt was sounding more impatient by the minute. "What if they made a record, then took it to some other Fellowship place? It might not even be in the same building. I care more about getting out of here than saving my driver's license and cell phone." I sure wished they'd listen to him.

"Look, the longer we hang around the more likely we are to get caught," I said.

"I'm pretty sure I know where they keep it," Mike put in. "There's a closet not far from the front office. The only time I've ever seen it open is when someone new comes in. The lock is a piece of shit. With those bolt cutters, we can open it easy."

"What if someone sees us?" So far we'd been lucky, but how long could that last?

"Who's going to see us?" Dan asked, "It's eight o'clock. They're all in group therapy with the newbies."

"God damn it," Hoyt protested. "Can we get going already?"

"It'll only take five minutes," Mike said. "And it _would _be nice not to have to get all new ID."

"Five minutes," I said. "You sure about that?"

"You handy with those bolt cutters, or are they just for show?" Mike's question was more of a challenge.

I stared him down. "I got in here, didn't I?"

"All right MacGyver, let's go." He turned and led us into a carpeted hall that led to the front of the building.

"_MacGyver?"_ Dan whispered to me.

"Shut the fuck up!"

The hall was dark except for a dim night light. The four of us tiptoed toward the front of the house, where a small foyer led to a staircase, another hallway and an office door. The door was closed, but there was a light on behind the frosted glass window, and a shadow moved around inside.

"Shit!" Mike moaned. "They're never here this late. Why now, of all times?"

"We better skip it," Hoyt urged. "Too dangerous."

"No way," Dan insisted. "We're here. Let's do it." Hoyt rolled his eyes.

"OK, Jay, you're up. Make it quiet."

Just down from the office door was a padlocked closet. Mike was right. The lock was a piece of shit. It was hardly any bigger than a suitcase lock. Hell, Sookie had one not much smaller than that on her diary when she was twelve. I edged past the others and got the bolt cutters in position. A quick _snick_ and the closet was open. About 20 cubbyholes marked with names lined the inside.

"Home run!" Dan whooped quietly. "Lemme see." He scanned the shelves, quickly finding Mike's things, then his own. He was still searching for Hoyt's when disaster struck. A flurry of light steps came down the stairs and a saccharine-sweet female voice called out.

"Oh hey, Dr. Updike. Have we got someone new?"

Hoyt groaned, then stepped out from behind the closet door. "Oh, hi Summer. No, it's just me. I was … lookin' for something."

"Looking for something?" The voice sounded concerned. "You're not supposed to be in there. That's why it's locked. What are you doing?"

The door flew back abruptly, exposing the rest of us to a young, busty blonde in pink shorts and a yellow T-shirt proclaiming "I've seen the Light".

"Dan! Mike!" She looked from one to the other in growing horror. "And who's this? Oh my god, it's a break in!" And with that she started shrieking fit to bust my eardrums.

"Summer! Summer, take it easy!" Mike tried to calm her down but she screamed even louder.

"Help! Help! We're being invaded!" Mike gave up trying to shut her up and clamped his hand over her mouth. She fought to get away, kicking and stomping, her muffled screaming still pretty loud.

Right then, the office door opened and Steve Newlin rushed out. "What's going on? Unhand that woman!" Then he noticed me. Gaping like a landed fish, he shouted "_You!"_

I stepped forward and clipped him with the bolt cutters. He dropped like a stone. "Yeah," I said. "Me. Nice to see you again, too."

A door opened down the second hall, and another woman entered the foyer. This one was tall and slim, older with short dark hair and bright blue eyes framed in sexy black glasses. A crisp white shirt and dark slacks hugged her body, and she strode in with a kind of feline grace.

"What's all this noise?" she demanded sternly. I don't much care for domineering women, but on her it was just … hot. "Mike? Dan? What have you got to say for yourselves? And who's this? Hoyt?" She pinned us all with a steely glare, but I saw her give me the once over. I stood a little straighter and gave her a friendly smile.

"Uh, well, Dr. Updike, "Hoyt stammered out, "This here's my friend Jason Stackhouse," I held out my hand and moved a little closer. A glowing smile lit up her face as she stepped toward me with a warm greeting.

"Well. Very nice to meet you. Are you going to be joining us here Jason?"

"I doubt it, but—" Summer was screaming again, having broken away from Mike, who was cursing and shaking the hand she'd bitten. As Dan tried to catch Summer again, yet another girl flew down the stairs.

"Summer, Summer, what's wrong with you?" The new girl had light brown hair and glasses that had slipped down the bridge of her nose. A clean but baggy sweat suit hung from her skinny frame, making her look like she'd swiped her big brother's workout clothes.

Pointing at me, Summer managed to shriek, "Intruders! We've been invaded!" before Dan clapped another hand over her mouth. "Bite me and I'll rip your hair out," he growled.

The new girl pushed her glasses up with one finger and peered at me. "Who are you? Are you new?"

I smiled at her, but the doctor lady snapped, "Not now, Janetta." The new girl wilted, and I felt so bad for her that I went and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"I'm Jason Stackhouse. What's your name, beautiful?"

"I'm Janetta. Janetta Ferguson." She was downcast and mumbling, so I slipped a finger under her chin and raised her head up in a kind of brotherly way.

"What a pretty name. Was that your momma's name?" She smiled uncertainly, and was about to answer when the doctor lady barked, "Janetta! You're supposed to be helping with group. Don't bother Mr. Stackhouse."

Janetta slipped her arm around my waist and replied defiantly, "Not tonight, Dr. Updike. It's not my night."

Dr. Updike looked annoyed at that, so I shot her a wink. "It's no bother, doc. Just cheering her up a little."

"Jason," Hoyt interrupted.

"Just a second." I gave Janetta a quick squeeze. As I was turning back to the doctor, Newlin let out a long groan and began to get up. Hoyt immediately sucker punched him and the Reverend went down like a sack of loose feed.

"Reverend Newlin! Hoyt!" The doctor was at his side in a flash, checking his pulse and cradling his head in her lap. A few more people had drifted into the foyer, drawn either by Summer's screaming or curiosity about the small crowd we had drawn.

"Hey," a new voice asked. "What's all the ruckus for? Where's the fire?"

"Fire? There's a fire?" Janetta looked panicked. She rushed for the stairwell and before anyone could stop her, had pulled the fire alarm, breaking the little glass bar and setting at least three industrial sized fire bells ringing.

Suddenly all hell broke loose, with people pouring out of meeting rooms and racing down the stairs. Everyone was yelling at once, pushing and shoving, and trying to be heard over the clamoring fire alarms. Someone yanked the front door open and the whole crowd spilled out onto the front walk. Janetta got out first. Newlin staggered out, leaning heavily on the attractive doctor's shoulder. Summer, still screaming, was somewhere in the middle. Me, Hoyt and the other guys got caught up in the rush.

Once outside, Hoyt dragged me through the crowd to where I'd parked my truck, hissing, "Jason, this our last chance. Let's go!"

"What about your friends?"

"Forget them, let's just get the hell outta here."

We reached my truck just as the fire trucks pulled in, lights blazing and sirens adding to the general commotion. Several firemen piled out of the truck and raced into the building. Seconds later, a couple of cop cars pulled up and they emptied out too. I fired up the engine, hoping we could still escape in all the confusion.

But before I could take off, Newlin dragged himself to the sidewalk, pointing at us and screaming, "Arrest those men!"

I was game to make a break for it—a high speed chase would've been fun—but the cops had me boxed in before I'd gotten out of my parking spot. Moments later a state trooper sidled up to through my open window.

"What's going on here, fellas?"

"That man was trespassing, and the other one is violating a court order by trying to leave the premises!" Newlin explained shrilly.

"It's not illegal to be here, officer. And my friend here just wanted some fresh air," I said, trying to play it cool. As luck would have it he was not a Renard Parish officer, and hadn't heard about my troubles over Dawn's murder.

"That true? You just out for some air?" The cop squinted doubtfully at Hoyt as Newlin hobbled up, looking a little battered. I hoped he wasn't going to mention how we'd cracked him over the head.

"Hell no! They're holding me prisoner against my will," Hoyt shouted. "You need to get me outta there. Those people are crazy!"

"Is that so?" The cop heaved his belt up then leaned back to spit his chew on the pavement.

A yellow-coated fireman came up, still carrying his axe. "We've checked the entire building. There's no sign of a fire," he reported. "Any idea why the alarm was pulled?"

"A few of our patients tried to escape," Newlin explained smoothly. "There was a bit of confusion, but it's all under control now. Thank you-all for turning out so quick." Turning back to the trooper, he pointed at Hoyt and accused, "This man has been detained for his own safety, officer. Under the Consorting with Dangerous Vampires Act. His family has committed him to our care."

"Is that right?" The trooper was now eyeing Hoyt with disgust. "Best you get out of the vehicle, son."

"God _damn _it!" Hoyt swore, slamming a fist into the dashboard. "Fucking hell!"

The trooper pulled out his handcuffs at that. "Now don't be making this hard on yourself. Just get out quietly and keep your hands where I can see 'em." Hoyt did get out, cussing under his breath and holding his hands up high. Another cop came up just as Hoyt was handcuffed and led off by the scruff of his neck.

"There's nothing dangerous about being in love," Hoyt yelled.

"Son," the new cop said, "Some of the worst crimes you can imagine have been committed in the name of love." He walked around to the back of my truck where he took out a large pad and stood there scribbling for a minute or so. Then he strolled up to my window and held out his hand.

"Pass me your license and registration, please."

"Is there a problem officer?"

"You're parked in a fire zone and I'm going to write you a ticket."

* * *

><p><strong>Next Up:<strong> Queen Sophie Ann gets a surprising offer, Hallow prepares to take a trip and Sookie pops up unexpectedly.


	19. Chapter 19: Mongrel Heart

Thanks to Charlaine Harris and Alan Ball for bringing us these wonderful characters.

Since it's been so long since we've updated, here's a recap of what's happened so far:

Sookie was trying to get her life back to normal—but of course, that's easier said than done when you're a telepath. She's fighting her growing feelings for Eric—especially when he shows up Christmas Eve with a thoughtful gift. Eric is called to New Orleans, but they make plans to meet after New Year's Eve. Eric is attacked as he leaves the queen's party in New Orleans, but recovers and takes flight for Bon Temps and Sookie. Hours later, Sookie finds him wandering her country road with no memory of who he is.

Pam and Sookie try but fail to keep Eric's condition under wraps. Enlisting help from Bill and his friend, an ancient Mayan shaman, they race to find a cure for Eric's amnesia. Sookie visits a local magic shop to research possible solutions, but is kidnapped after a second visit.

Meanwhile, Hoyt's been thrown into a detention center for those who fraternize with vampires, run by none other than Steve Newlin and the Fellowship of the Sun. With Hoyt's captivity technically legal, Bill pushes the mainstreaming agenda and forbids Jessica to bust him out. Jason tries valiantly, but fails to rescue him.

Will Sookie have better luck escaping?

* * *

><p>The world strobed, in and out, pulsing with pressure, blurring my vision. Pain pierced through the fog, and I collapsed against a cold, hard surface.<p>

Trying to lift my head up had been a big mistake.

Some time passed before I tried opening my eyes again. The first thing to come into focus was the pattern of heavy interlocking steel diamonds that comprised a chain link fence. A shift of my head revealed that the structure was reinforced with two by fours like the bars to a cell. The sound of two dogs wrestling was what had finally roused me from sleep. A sleep that had left me feeling more tired than I'd ever felt before.

The beast who was now crammed in with a friend in an adjoining cage was not happy that I'd taken up residence in his quarters. I wasn't thrilled about it either, especially when I took a deep breath and caught a whiff of the smell. With those snarling teeth bared at me, I was glad that I had been given my own cage instead of bunking up with one of them.

While my canine neighbors circled one another, I tried to shake the fog of sleep from my head. I'd been leaving the magic shop, when someone had...

Drugged me. And kidnapped me.

Someone who kept pit bulls. What else did they do? It was still day outside, judging by the thin light coming in from a couple of small windows high up, so I looked around for a clue as to where I was and who might have taken me.

I seemed to be in someone's walkout basement machine shop. I saw a welding machine and a long workbench full of mounted metalworking devices. (I knew what they for were because Jason always made me watch American Chopper with him if he was over when it came on, and I recognized some of the stuff.) There was a metal roll-up door like you might see on a garage, some wooden stairs leading up, and stacked on shelves, lined up along walls and from what I could see, even tucked under the stairs, were strips and sheets of cut steel in various stages of fabrication. I couldn't tell what they were going to be, though. None of it was curved like fenders or gas tanks or handlebars. And none of it was close enough to do me any good.

The room was cold. I was hungry, had a mild headache, and I definitely needed to pee. I had to think. And fast. I had to get out of here before whoever chloroformed me came back. My first attempt to sit up brought waves of nausea, and big black spots blocking my vision. I took a few deep breaths, and then, groaning, crawled to my knees. Once my head stopped spinning, I was able to use the wire mesh to pull myself to my feet. After a close examination of my cage, I realized there was no way I was going to find a weakness that the pit bulls hadn't been able to exploit.

Think, Sookie. I pulled the cord around my neck and absently stroked the green stone that hung from it, feeling the grooves of the tree and bird carved into its surface. The repetitive gesture was inexplicably soothing, and the pain of my headache eased. I took a deep breath, then regretted it, because all I could smell was dog piss. Not only did these dogs seem to be unnaturally aggressive, they also didn't seem to be well cared for. The growling beasts looked hungry. At least there was a chain link wall separating me from them.

This would have been a great time for a fairy godmother to make an appearance, but Claudine seemed to be making herself scarce. Maybe this was one of those times she couldn't look in on me?

I took a small comfort in the fact that Eric, or even Bill, should be able to track me down, but I couldn't wait for sunset and a vampire with shining fangs to rescue me. I needed to figure this out for myself.

Standing in the center of the cage, I closed my eyes, and tried to envision a way out of this situation. If I could just get out of this cage, I wouldn't need Claudine—or Eric. But nothing came to me.

Frustrated, I opened my eyes, only to find myself standing in the other cage between two angry dogs. Crap! There was no time to wonder how that happened, because their snapping and snarling said they were even less happy to be sharing their space with me than with each other. Luckily, Sam had taught me a thing or two about dealing with angry dogs.

"There, there," I whispered, looking the one on my left directly in the eyes, holding up my hand defensively to the other. "We'll all get out of this, I promise." The dogs were frightened and on edge, and now that I got a close look at them, I could see that both had significant scarring. Were these fighting dogs? If so, I was going to see that whoever kidnapped me was charged with animal cruelty too, because not only is dog fighting illegal, these conditions were unfit and inhumane for any animal. There was not much air, less light and hardly enough space to turn around in.

I sat down slowly, doing my best to look unthreatening, but not afraid. The one on my left moved towards me, but I didn't flinch even though I was braced for the worst. To my surprise, all he did was whine and lick my hand. When he had confirmed I wasn't a threat, I petted him lightly. "Nice fella," I said. The other one nudged forward, wanting the same treatment. They were clearly starved for affection as well as food.

We'd finished making friends and I was just beginning to contemplate how I'd gotten into this cage from the now empty one across the way, when the fluorescent lights overhead snapped on and a man came clomping down the wooden stairs with a metal bowl of dog food in each hand.

"What do we have here?" he said, glancing back and forth from the empty cage to me and the dogs. "Marnie!" he yelled over his shoulder.

I tried to place this middle-aged, greasy man. Had I seen him before? There was nothing noteworthy about him, from the flannel shirt over his dirty white t-shirt all the way down to his work boots. Why was he holding me captive? And who was Marnie?

"What is it, Mark! I told you I'm busy!" A female voice responded.

"You're gonna wanna see this!"

Heavy steps came from inside the house, and the door opened to reveal Hallow, who was scowling at Mark.

"What's so important! I told you not to disturb me."

"Have a look for yourself."

Then Hallow noticed me, and burst out laughing. "At least I know I got the right one! Of course, Sookie isn't that common a name. But I never dreamed it would be so easy to find you. I didn't even have to try! You walked right into my shop almost like ... magic." She snapped her fingers and her eyes glittered in delight.

Then it hit me: I'd walked right into a trap. And I'd thought that I'd made so much progress on finding out Eric's curse by visiting the magic shop. But why had she taken me? Could this be somehow related to Eric's curse?

Luckily, Hallow … or Marnie … was behaving like a typical villain, revealing her motives and actions. Maybe there was some hope.

"Gives me the creeps, she does." Mark shuddered and averted his gaze. I turned my attention to the dogs, petting both of them between the eyes.

"Shut up, Mark. Go order pizza or something. They told me to be sure and deliver her in good condition, and right now she looks pale and sickly. She needs to eat."

"Who's paying for it? I didn't sign on to treat the hostage," Mark said.

"I got it!" Hallow screamed back in irritation.

Mark stomped off into the house, leaving me alone with Hallow. If it was dinner time, it had to be evening. Night would come on soon. I hoped that Bill or Eric had given me enough blood to track me, even though I normally hated being tied to them as much as I now hated that I needed their help.

"You're not going to feed me dog food? Well that's a relief," I said sarcastically.

"I'm not the evil person you think I am," Hallow spat out as if I'd offended her.

"Well, you ought to be ashamed of yourself—this is no way to treat animals!" If I could get her off balance, she might let something slip, aloud or otherwise. "And kidnapping me and locking me up doesn't make you seem like a humanitarian."

"Oh, you won't be here long," she smirked. Just a few more hours. Once the sun goes down, I can make the call. "And I can't risk losing you. If I'd known you were going to be cage hopping, I'd have kept you knocked out longer. What exactly are you?"

"I'm a waitress." I smiled, remembering my cover story the first time I went into the shop. "And aspiring writer."

"Cut the crap. You didn't know enough to be a witch, and I don't know anyone else who can do what you did. But obviously you're going to be more valuable than I thought."

No wonder the vampire queen is willing to go to such lengths to procure her.

Well, that answered one question. I guess it could have been any vampire queen—there had to be more than one—but my bets were on Sophie-Ann. Though Eric had put her off for a while the last time I'd see her, she hadn't done anything to hide her eventual goal, which was having me under her control and at always at her disposal.

"I am valuable to many people," I said. I may have been stretching the point, but I knew that whatever I was to Eric now or before, he valued me. And there were plenty of others who might wonder what happened to me if I didn't turn up for work or return my library books. Hallow couldn't make me disappear without someone catching her trail eventually.

She just snorted and pulled out her phone. But under her disdain there was current of fear, and I felt it clearly through her strange aura.

She hit a couple buttons and then paced the length of the workshop, waiting for someone to answer.

I envied her long, deliberate strides from my crowded and claustrophobic dog cage. But despite her mobility, she seemed to be having just as rough as a day as I was. Her thoughts were a snarled mess.

When whoever she was calling didn't answer, Hallow stomped her foot. "I've got what you wanted," she snarled into the voice mail. "I expect to hear back from you at once regarding delivery." The phone snapped shut and she glared at me.

"You better be as valuable as you say you are," was all she said before storming off into the house. That left me and the two dogs, who were pitifully pawing at the food bowls Mark had set down just outside the cage.

"Don't you worry boys," I whispered as I petted both dogs. "I'm getting out of here, and I'll take you with me." They looked at me expectantly, clearly hoping there was action to go with my positive talk. When I didn't move, they went back to pawing at the bottom of the chain link wall. But there was no way out—for any of us. I hated feeling so trapped and helpless and I didn't want to think about what would happen if I didn't find a way out of here before I was delivered to the queen.

I found myself stroking the pendant hanging at my neck again, drawing strength as from it as I had before. There really was something soothing about it. For no reason at all, I began to feel a little hope. I had no idea how it had happened, but if I could somehow shift from one cage to another, I could surely make it through this trial.

More time passed. I sat cross-legged on the hard cement floor with the dogs resting beside me. I was grateful for their warmth. All three of us had pretty much given up on the prospect of food. Surely it had to be dark by now? I was getting really hungry, and so were my companions. Just when I thought they might be starting to look at me as a light snack, Mark came back.

"Everybody comfy in there?" He laughed at his own stupid joke. Unlocking the cage door, he reached for my arm. "Time for you to get back where you belong, Princess," he leered. The dogs leaped to my defense, snapping at his hand and snarling viciously.

"Hey there! Down!" He clipped them on the snout with the cage lock and they stopped advancing, but didn't back down.

"Maybe you should try feeding them once in awhile," I suggested, pointing at the bowls he'd left tauntingly out of reach. He hastily shoved the bowls inside the cage, and the dogs set to gulping their rations voraciously.

With the dogs distracted, he pulled me out of their cage and shoved me back into the other one. I tried to wriggle free, but he was stronger than he looked and had the door locked before I could escape.

"I'm hungry too," I complained. "Weren't you supposed to be getting pizza or something?"

"Hah! Maybe the dogs will share." He stared at me vindictively, but as footsteps sounded near the basement stairs, he retrieved something from out of sight, cracked the door open again and guiltily thrust a greasy take-out box at me before slamming and relocking my cage. When the footsteps moved away without coming down, he looked annoyed, but then shrugged and trudged back upstairs.

"Some water would be nice," I shouted after him. A slamming door at the top of the stairs was the only answer I got.

In the dim light, the greasy box proved to be from one of those single-slice pizza stands. It was cold, and marked "Cheese pizza". It smelled like cardboard, but I didn't care. It was food and I was hungry so I tore into it.

There had to be a way out of here. When I was done with my sorry excuse for dinner, I stood up and stretched, then made a second attempt at finding a weakness in the cage, but the construction was solid and the chain link fencing was held tight against the frame. I kicked it once for good measure.

Though I didn't want to dwell on it, I couldn't ignore the fact that I'd somehow transported myself from one cage to another. Maybe if I tried to do that deliberately, I could pop out of the cage entirely, then I might be able to escape. If I could figure out what it was exactly I'd done.

My concentration was interrupted by a triumphant Hallow storming back into the garage.

"You're ride's on the way!" She exclaimed. "I'm going to get her back!"

Hallow was bursting with excitement. In comparison to her high energy, I felt even more drained. But perhaps Hallow would let something slip. If I was going to be transported, that might be an opportunity to escape. I had to get all the information I could.

"Get who back?" I asked.

Hallow beamed at me. "The best witch I've ever known. And once we're back together we'll get the hell out of this vampire-infested state."

"You don't like vampires?"

"Not since they're holding my girlfriend hostage, I don't," she said, her eyes wide and bright.

"So where am I going? Who are you turning me over to?"

"Don't you worry about it, they'll be here soon enough."

But it was Eric and Pam who stormed in as soon as she'd spoken.  
>A blast of cold air entered as the roll-up door shattered with a tortured groan, and the voice I'd been longing to hear floated in.<p>

Before I could blink, Pam had Mark on his back, and Eric was dangling Hallow by her throat.

"Where is Sookie?" Eric growled, as Hallow clawed and scratched impotently at his fingers.

"Eric! Pam! I'm back here!" I yelled. They quickly spotted me behind the caged dogs, but didn't let go of their captives.

"What a stupid, backwoods name." Mark was flat on his back and flailing vainly at Pam, but still felt compelled to share his opinion. "I still don't believe she's worth anything. She don't look all that special," he grunted.

"You don't have to like her," Pam said sweetly. She'd yanked Mark's head back and had fangs ready and aimed at his throat. "We just want her back."

"You'll have to get past the dogs first, bitch," he wheezed.

"I'll kill them just like I'm going to kill you," Pam said with a gleeful glint in her eye, and prepared to sink her fangs into his neck.

"Don't kill him!" No matter how mean and ungracious he'd been, he didn't deserve to die for it. Pam rolled her eyes, but stopped her attack. "What if I'm in the mood for greasy take out?" she muttered.

"Why shouldn't they die?" Eric demanded. "They have harmed you. There must be a price." If I'd doubted that real Eric was still there despite his memory loss, the feral look in his eyes proved me wrong. Still, I thought I could reason with him.

"You don't remember this Eric, but we have a deal. Human criminals go to the human police," I insisted. I leaned against my cage, clutching at the wires. "You promised me, back when we first met."

"He did?" A new and heavily accented female voice came from the direction of the now-shredded roll-up door. "I knew there was something going on with you two. The queen will be so disappointed, Eric." The workshop was small, and there were two humans and two vampires between the new voice and me. I couldn't see who it was, but she sounded sort of familiar.

"Help!" Hallow choked out. At the same time, Pam snarled, "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to take delivery of something Hallow has been holding for my dear friend Sophie-Ann, since Eric apparently could not keep her safe after all."

Eric opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Pam snapped something that presumably meant, 'shut up and let me handle this' because his mouth closed again and he just growled menacingly.

"Really, Pamela, you should stop trying so hard," the new voice said. "It doesn't matter that you learned his barbaric language. I will always be his first—and favorite."

His first? Favorite? …

Double crap! Now I knew why that voice was familiar. It was Eric's other child, the exotic Russian vampire who'd been so eager to "share" me when I'd been waitressing at Fangtasia to help Eric find a killer. What was her name?

"Mila," Pam drawled. She tossed Mark aside like a dirty oil rag and advanced on the other vampire while Mark scrambled to hide under the basement stairs. Now I that could finally see something other than greasy denim and red leather, I noticed that Eric still had a grip on Hallow, but had let her down enough to breathe. Mila, whose platinum blonde hair flowed down the back of a beautiful silver fox coat, sneered at Pam's baleful approach like a disdainful older sister.

"Everyone has a learning curve—even Eric." Pam's tone was downright Arctic. "Lucky for you he's too stubborn to admit he made a mistake, or you'd have been goop a long time ago."

"Mistake? Pah! No mistake. Maybe I'll 'goop' you." Hissing, the two lunged for each other and before you could say "true death" there was an incoherent tangle of red and silver rolling around on the garage floor, snarling and shedding chunks of hair in two shades of blonde. The dogs whined and scratched at their cage as if they wanted to jump into the fight, and I was glad Mark had separated us again.

"ENOUGH!" Eric roared with sufficient authority that the fight stopped at once. Mila's fur coat looked decidedly mangy and Pam's red leather mini now had a serious case of road rash, but neither vampire looked much worse for the incident. Except for the hair, of course. But that would grow back almost instantly. Some things are just not fair.

"Explain," Eric demanded of Mila. "Now. Or I will end you." Mila shook herself and sauntered around Eric toward Hallow, who was now slumped at Eric's feet clutching her throat.

"Dear Sophie-Ann wants her little telepath," she said, gesturing at my cage. "She is not stupid—she knows you want her for yourself. That much is clear even to me, Eric." Mila continued her nonchalant stroll, passing behind Eric and Hallow, then turning to retrace her steps. "Imagine how disappointed the queen was when Andre failed to dispose of you in New Orleans." Mila stopped her pacing to reach out and stroke Hallow's hair.

"Imagine how pleased she was when this one called, hoping to exchange your little pet for her pathetic friend." Hallow looked up at the mention of her girlfriend.

"Is Tanith here?" she asked hopefully. "Did you bring her? The girl you came for is right over there." She pointed a bony finger at my cage. "I did everything you said."

"You'll be seeing her very soon," Mila purred. "Right away, as a matter of fact." I thought she was going to pat Hallow's cheek with her other hand, but she used it to snap the witch's neck. I could hear the awful sound from my cramped corner and couldn't help screaming, "No!"

There was a howl of protest from under the staircase, where Mark swung a heavy sheet of cut steel at Mila's head. It flashed dully in the bright fluorescent light, spinning out of his hands to slice cleanly through the vampire's neck before clattering to the floor.

"Thank you," Pam said primly, stepping back to avoid the splatter that had been Mila.

Eric's face contorted in pain. Moving too fast to see, he'd seized Mark and torn his head off before I could speak.

"Eric, don't!" I screamed at him, but it was already too late and he was engrossed in draining his kill.

Pam was in front of me in an instant, warning me to be quiet.

"Not a good idea," she said grimly. "Eric was her Maker. Do you have any idea what he's feeling right now? The only reason I didn't kill her myself is that I wasn't sure he'd be able to handle her death in his current state, not understanding their history. Now, let's get you out of there."

She ripped the cage open easily and helped me out. The dogs in the other cage were barking and snarling, and as quickly as Eric had killed Mark, she reached into their cage and snapped their necks to shut them up.

"You didn't have to kill them," I whimpered. "I was going to call the SPCA." I surveyed the carnage. Two dead humans, a pile of vampire guts and now, two dead dogs lying on the floor. Tears started streaming down my face.

"Don't be ridiculous, Sookie," Pam barked. "These dogs aren't pets. What did you think the SPCA would do with them?"

My emotional circuits blew then, and I sank back down to the cold floor and wept. I'd had a long, rotten day even though Mark and Hallow hadn't done me any lasting harm. The poor dogs, who'd been my companions and protectors despite abuse by other humans, were now just cooling heaps of bloody fur. The queen had evidently stepped up her campaign to acquire me, Mila was dead and Eric, who'd drained all he could get out of Mark, had a pleased look on his bloody face. It was too much.

My tears seemed to bring him down from the high of his kill, and he approached me. "Sookie," he said, and his fangs snapped back up. An attempt to look less frightening, I presumed. It might have worked, if Eric hadn't been covered in gore. He reached out to touch me, and I recoiled.

A look of shame momentarily flashed across his face, one I don't think he would have allowed even for that second if he had been his true self. Then he pulled me to him against my will and held me to his chest, running his hands through my hair. I wanted to feel comforted by his embrace, but I was overcome with a wave of revulsion.

True self or not, underneath it all, this was who Eric was. He wasn't human, and maybe I should stop telling myself he could act like one if he really wanted to.

"You killed him," I sniffled.

"He killed his child," Pam interjected. "It was a reflex. Any vampire would have done the same thing, even Bill."

"That doesn't make it right," I argued as I wiggled free of Eric. I avoided his eyes and focused on my anger, which was the only thing holding me together.

"It's too bad Mila and Hallow are dead. It's possible they could have told us something useful about all this. Now, our best bet is Bill and his shaman friend. Your disappearing act has delayed our meeting with them. We're late. They are waiting at Fangtasia. So pull yourself together and let's get out of this hell hole."

"What about the bodies?"

"Let the human police deal with it."

I surveyed the damage. I didn't think civil servants were paid enough to deal with this. But I didn't have an alternative.

"I need a shower first. Can we stop by Eric's first?"

"No time. You can both get cleaned up at Fangtasia."

I felt weary, defeated, and as relieved to be safe as I was, regretful of the way I'd been rescued. Pam was nonchalantly running her hands through her hair. It was already growing back and other than the scrapes and scratches on her leather and a broken heel, she looked no different than normal.

"C'mon," she said, and Eric and I both followed her out to her van. She grumbled about blood on her seats as we both climbed in. Eric sat in the front rather than back with me. I was grateful for the space. I needed some time to collect my thoughts.

Fangtasia was open when we arrived, but we snuck quickly in the back entrance and Eric followed me to the employee locker room. Pam brought us each fresh clothes and a towel, and when she found us just standing and staring at one another, she snapped at us to hurry up.

"I'll shower first," I said, and Eric nodded.

The cramped quarters of Fangtasia's showers did not bring back any fun memories—I was reminded of when I'd been attacked by the maenad and the time I'd barely escaped from the Red River Casino with my life. I cleaned up before I had too much time to dwell on the unhappy memories stored in this uncomfortable corner.

"All yours," I said to Eric when I stepped out and wrapped myself in a towel. Again, he didn't speak. He barely glanced at me. I wondered what he was thinking about.

I ran my fingers through my hair and stepped into the t-shirt and sweats that Pam had left for me. I was acquiring quite a collection of Fangtasia promotional clothing. Though my other clothes weren't ruined, I knew I'd never be able to wear them without thinking of that cage, those dogs, the dead vampires and humans. I tossed them in the trash and sat on the bench to wait for Eric.

I heard the water turn off, and then Eric emerged, dripping, with his mouth still set in a grim line. He sat beside me and our eyes met for the first time since leaving that basement machine shop.

"I hate feeling your fear," he said quietly. He reached for my hand, but I moved it quickly to my lap and looked away from him. This was where he told me he was a vampire, and the feelings he had expressed for me were fleeting and dangerous and something he could no longer entertain.

The real Eric had admitted he could never love me. And even though he'd still sought my company, that fundamental truth hadn't changed. This memory-free Eric was no different.

I only wished my nature had prevented me from doing the same.

"I hate it even more when your fear is directed at me."

I turned towards him in shock. That wasn't what I'd been expecting him to say.

He then drew me into his arms before I could protest, holding me against his damp chest, squeezing me tightly. "The thought of losing you…" he trailed off, and I drew in a sharp breath and let my arms wrap around him.

Pam burst in without knocking. "Sorry to interrupt your moment, but we've got a meeting to attend.

Eric laid a tender kiss on my cheek, then dried himself quickly and pulled on the track pants and tank that Pam had left for him.

"We're ready," he said, taking my hand and leading us to the office where Bill and Smoking Frog were waiting. We'd have to work out our personal issues later; right now, we'd have to focus on figuring out which one of Eric's enemies could have done this to him.

* * *

><p>Up Next: Eric is a hard act to follow; Bill relates a bloody tale; Sookie is frustrated, Smoking Frog sees the light and a plan is born.<p> 


End file.
